"Skimmed it." Hargrave tapped his keyboard. "Allow me to refresh your memory. Captain Elias Mercer. Three years of service in Jaeger Company. Hunter survival rate: 98.7%. Mission success rate: 96.3%. Critical missions successfully completed: forty-two. Civilians saved: over three hundred thousand."
Mara blinked. "How..."
"How does such a chaotic company get those results?" Hargrave finished. "That's the question I asked myself three years ago when Mercer took command. You know what I found out?"
Mara shook her head.
"That I didn't understand his method. And that it didn't matter." Hargrave leaned toward the camera. "The numbers speak, O'Connell. Jaeger Company is the most effective in Division 7. Not the cleanest. Not the most disciplined. But the most effective."
"The numbers don't change the fact that it's an administrative disaster! The reports, the—"
"Your mission is NOT to change how he fights," Hargrave cut in. "Your mission is to handle the admin. The reports. The budgets. Relations with the Association. The operational side already works. Perfectly."
"But—"
"No buts. You were assigned here because you're an excellent manager. Not because you're a better hunter than Mercer. Because you're not. No one in this Division is."
"You're letting him do whatever he wants," Mara said, voice shaking. "You tolerate his insubordination. His contempt for the rules. His—"
"I tolerate my best asset," Hargrave corrected. "And if you can't understand the difference between managing a genius and breaking a tool that works, then I'll find someone else."
Mara froze. "Someone else?"
"You're the fourth Vice-Captain assigned to Mercer in two years. The other three resigned or requested transfers." Hargrave stared at her through the screen. "I'm not going to lose my best captain because a bureaucrat can't accept that the field isn't a classroom."
"I... I don't..."
"Do your job, O'Connell. Handle the reports. Handle the budgets. Let Mercer handle the missions. Or resign. It's that simple."
Elias stood. "We done?"
"Go," Hargrave said wearily.
Elias left without a word.
Mara stayed seated, staring at her hands.
"Vice-Captain," Hargrave said more softly. "I know it's hard. Mercer is... particular. But he's irreplaceable. And if you learn to work with him instead of against him, you might discover why."
The screen went dark.
Mara sat alone in the empty office. Gray walls. Impersonal furniture. The hum of the air conditioning.
'Handle the admin. That's all I am to them. A secretary with stripes.'
She clenched her fists.
'No. I'm not settling for that.'
She stood and left.
—
The hallway smelled of coffee and disinfectant. Mara walked fast, heels clicking on the linoleum. She turned the corner and nearly collided with someone.
Elias.
He was leaning against the vending machine, a steaming coffee cup in hand. He looked at her.
"Rough day?"
"Go fuck yourself."
He smiled.
She brushed past him, continuing on.
"O'Connell."
She stopped but didn't turn.
"Hargrave's right," Elias said. "You're an excellent manager. The reports you submitted this week are the most detailed I've ever seen. Even I read them. Well, the first three pages."
She gritted her teeth.
"But you're trying to fix something that isn't broken." He took a sip. "This company works. Not like the others. Not by the rules. But it works. And you want to turn it into something... normal."
"Normal means safe," she said without turning.
"Normal means dead," Elias replied. "In our line of work."
She turned her head. "You really think you're indispensable?"
He looked at her for a long moment. "No. I just know that right now, no one else wants to do what I do."
He pushed off the wall and walked away in the opposite direction, coffee in hand, hands in his pockets.
At another intersection, he ran into Finn.
The young hunter was sitting on a low bench near a window overlooking the empty parking lot. He wasn't looking outside. He was staring at his open hands in his lap.
"Lose some money?" Elias asked, stopping beside him.
Finn jumped. "Captain! I... no. I was thinking."
"Dangerous activity around here. Gives you migraines." Elias sat heavily next to him, making the bench creak. He followed Finn's gaze. Just empty hands. "So? What are you thinking about? Your imminent transfer to Archives Division?"
Finn paled. "What? No! I... I want to stay here!"
"Really?" Elias pulled out his unlit e-cig.
"I... I'm sorry. Really. I'll train. I'll..."
"Don't bother," Elias cut in.
The bench groaned under Elias's weight. He puffed on the unlit e-cig.
"Don't bother with indoor shooting sessions," he continued, eyes fixed on the empty parking lot where an oil puddle shimmered under the harsh neon lights. "That'll just make you good at shooting paper targets. Nemeses don't wear numbers and they don't stay nicely still."
Finn shrank a little more into himself. "So... what do I do? I'm a recruitment mistake, right?"
"Everyone's a recruitment mistake at first," Elias grunted. "The question is: why are you here? For the pretty uniforms? To impress girls? For the paycheck?"
Finn flushed. "I... I wanted to be a hero. Save people. Like on the shows. The famous hunters, the interviews, the..."
"Merchandise. Fucking hell. An idealist. Worse than an addict. At least addiction can be treated."
"It's not stupid to want to be a hero!"
"Yes, it is. It's fatally stupid. Because heroes die. Often. And spectacularly." Elias finally turned to him. "Heroes think about glory, about the statue they'll get. I want people thinking about the cold beer they'll drink after the mission. The difference is subtle, but crucial. One makes photogenic corpses. The other makes survivors."
Finn looked away.
"Why did you really join? The real reason. Not the one for the file."
A long silence. A delivery truck rumbled somewhere in the distance.
"My little sister," Finn murmured. "A Class D rift, four years ago. In our neighborhood. She could've... the hunters arrived. They pulled her from the rubble. She just had a fracture. I was hiding under the stairs. I did nothing." He clenched his fists. "I want... to be the one who shows up. Not the one who hides."
Elias studied the kid's profile.
"Alright," Elias said, standing with cracking joints. "That's already less stupid. But still just as dangerous. You want to save people? Start with the ones next to you."
He gave him a sideways glance.
"In this company, Finn, I don't need soldiers. I need people too stubborn to let go. People who, when everything stinks of shit and goes to hell, look left, look right, and think: 'Well, we're in the muck together. Might as well get out.'"
He turned his e-cig in his fingers.
"Your mission, starting now. The only one that matters. You're no longer the rookie who has to rack up the most kills. You're the eyes in the back of everyone's head. Your job is to watch their backs. To see what they don't. To yell if some bastard tries to sneak up behind them. Clear?"
Finn stared at him, mouth open. "That's... it?"
"That's it?" Elias let out a short laugh. "Kid, that's the most important job on the team. And the most thankless. No one will thank you for stopping an attack that never happened. But everyone will curse you if you miss it. Want to be a hero? Be an invisible one. That work for you?"
Finn straightened. "Yes, Captain."
"Good. Now get lost. I've got a strategic nap to plan."