The next few days passed in an odd blur of soreness, bruises, and restless sleep.
Every morning I dragged myself out of bed before sunrise and jogged through the quiet streets until my lungs burned and my legs trembled. Then pushups. Then stretching. Repeat.
After what happened in the Office and the Maze Anomaly, I refused to feel weak again. My body still remembered the guard's footsteps — that heavy, mechanical rhythm pounding through the stairwell — and Josh's distorted voice overlapping itself in the dark. Every time my pulse spiked during training, I swore I could hear it again, echoing faintly behind me. That alone kept me going.
It wasn't all in my head either. My body was… changing.
My hair had begun to darken, the bright blond from before fading into a deep brown, strands growing faster than normal.
It wasn't just color — it was like something was rewriting me from the inside out.
Like my original body's bleeding through this one, I thought.
Unsettling, but at least my hair was long enough now to cut into my old two-block style — bangs parted to the sides. It wasn't perfect, but it was a piece of the person I used to be.
The fox didn't make recovery any easier.
No matter how many times I tried to chase it off, it refused to leave. I opened the door, waved my arms, even hissed at it once like an idiot — but within an hour, it would return, curling up on the porch like it owned the place.
It had those two mismatched eyes — one gold, one pale blue — that stared straight through me, like it was waiting for something I didn't understand.
I searched for missing pet reports, zoo escapes, anything. Nothing. Not a single mention of a white fox.
"Picky bastard," I muttered one night as it turned its nose up at dog food.
It only ate fast food or meat — burgers, chicken, whatever smelled greasy enough to kill a human heart. I wasn't sure if that made it sentient or just spoiled.
Between training sessions and Bureau paperwork, the days blurred together. I kept in touch with a few people — Louis, some of the recruits who survived. Everyone except Abby and Agent Ares.
Not that Ares ever talked to me much, and Abby…
Yeah. Things weren't exactly great between us after the incident.
Sarah texted me once, said she was "preparing for something big."
I wished her luck, but she left it at that.
Then came the Bureau's message.
I'd officially been placed into Team F — one of the five Main Teams in the Field Investigation Department. Apparently, I scored high on the evaluation.
The message added, almost as an afterthought, that the team used to be one of the "Three Elites." Before two of its members died.
Not exactly comforting.
From what I'd learned, the Bureau's hierarchy worked like this:
Three Elite Teams. Five Main Teams. Dozens of Support Teams.
Support Teams got the scraps — low pay, poor gear, backup duty for mid-tier anomalies.
Main Teams, like mine, handled mid-to-high-tier anomalies and investigated new cases with the Research Division's manuals. Better pay, slightly better odds of coming back in one piece.
And the Elites… they were the Bureau's golden children.
Teams A, B, and C. Top-tier gear. Best pay. First-class treatment. They dealt with anomalies that didn't have manuals — because the people who encountered them never lived long enough to write one.
So yeah, being in a Main Team was great on paper. But compared to the Elites, it felt like sitting in business class watching first class sip champagne.
My new codename was Investigator Weaver.
Just my last name. No mystery. No flair.
Real creative, I thought.
But after everything, I didn't have the energy to care.
That evening, the fox yawned lazily on my couch, one golden eye half-open, tail flicking.
"Don't look at me like that," I muttered. "You don't even pay rent."
It blinked slowly, unimpressed.
I sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Sleep all day, eat greasy food, no bills — must be nice."
The fox's tail flicked once more, like it was mocking me, then went still.
For a moment, I almost envied it.
---
My first day with Team F started tomorrow.
Supervisor Ash— no, Julian had invited me to dinner to "celebrate." He'd been the one person I'd actually talked to consistently this past week. I wasn't sure if that made us friends, or just two people who didn't know how to process what we'd seen.
I dressed in a silver suit — silver vest, black tie — the fabric lighter and cheaper than Bureau standard, but good enough for a restaurant on the top floor of the city's skyline.
Honestly, I wasn't a suit guy. But Julian had insisted. "Top floor, my treat," he'd said.
Couldn't really say no to that.
As I adjusted my tie in the mirror, I caught my reflection — tired eyes, faint shadows under them, but something sharper in my gaze now.
"I hope this doesn't come off awkward…" I muttered.
The city outside was painted gold by the setting sun.
I sat in the passenger seat of Julian's sleek sports car, the engine humming like a heartbeat.
"BAA pays well, huh?" I asked, eyeing the polished interior.
"Not initially," Julian said with a grin. "You only start earning this kind of money if you survive long enough."
I snorted. "You really know how to motivate people, man. My morale just dropped by another two hundred percent."
He laughed quietly, steering through the city lights. "Don't worry. Tonight's food will make up for it."
For a moment, the world outside the window blurred — towers glowing like molten glass, traffic pulsing like veins through the city. It was pretty peaceful, considering this world was swarming with anomalies beyond Human comprehension.
The car glided into the underground parking lot of a glass tower near the riverfront. By the time we stepped out, the city was cloaked in gold and violet hues, the last of the sunset fading over the horizon.
The elevator ride was almost silent except for the faint hum of jazz music and the distant chime of the floor numbers climbing. Julian looked oddly calm — one hand in his pocket, the other adjusting his cufflinks like he'd done this a hundred times before.
When the doors opened, we stepped into a restaurant that looked like something out of a lifestyle magazine.
Soft amber lights, panoramic glass walls overlooking the entire skyline, and quiet classical music playing somewhere in the background. The air smelled faintly of roasted garlic, wine, and seared meat — comforting, expensive.
"Damn," I murmured under my breath. "This is way too fancy for someone who calls anomalies 'those freaky bastards.'"
Julian chuckled, motioning for me to sit. "Hey, even field agents deserve to eat somewhere that doesn't smell like blood and disinfectant."
I grinned. "Hard to argue with that."
We sat by the window, watching the river shimmer below as the waiter poured us water. The menu was the size of a folder, filled with dishes I could barely pronounce. Julian didn't even glance at it.
"I already ordered," he said casually, leaning back in his seat. "You looked like a steak guy."
"I'm not sure what gave that away."
"The perpetual exhaustion and protein shakes in your fridge."
I laughed, shaking my head. "i invited you over once, and You already snooped?"
"Investigated," he corrected, raising his glass. "There's a difference."
For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself relax.
The food came — medium-rare steak, perfectly seared, served with roasted vegetables and sauce that probably cost more than my entire week's groceries.
Conversation flowed easily. We joked about the Bureau's ridiculous policies and traded stories. We talked about everything and nothing.
Julian was surprisingly easy to talk to.
He didn't treat me like a subordinate, or a rookie who got lucky surviving. He laughed often, listened closely, and his stories had that kind of casual sharpness that came from experience — years of walking through hell and somehow coming out the other side.
"Team F's been through worse," he said at one point, swirling his drink. "But we're rebuilding. People like you? We need that. We need someone who still thinks before pulling the trigger."
I blinked. "That supposed to be a compliment?"
He smiled faintly. "It's the best kind."
The night lingered. The city lights stretched endlessly below us, a sea of color and motion.
For a moment, sitting there with a glass of wine, the world almost felt normal. No Bureau reports. No creatures lurking in fluorescent hallways. Just quiet conversation, laughter, and the faint hum of a city that didn't know — or care — about the monsters beneath it.
When we finally left, the air outside was cool and sharp with the scent of rain on metal.
Julian stretched, glancing at me as the car doors unlocked with a soft beep. "You did good, Weaver. Enjoy the calm while it lasts — Bureau life doesn't hand these nights out often."
I smirked. "Guess I'll make it count then."
"Good answer."
As the city lights reflected across the car windows, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, letting the moment settle.
For the first time in a long while, the silence didn't feel heavy.
It just… felt peaceful.
The car slipped out of the parking lot and onto the main avenue, headlights gliding over wet asphalt.
Rain had fallen earlier — not much, just enough to turn the streets glossy and make the neon reflections ripple across the ground. Towering glass buildings flanked both sides of the road, their digital billboards flashing soft colors onto the car's windows. Some advertised Bureau tech, others promoted new films or artificial food supplements. The usual city noise — muted chatter, soft hums of passing hover-cabs, and the faint electronic buzz of ad drones — filled the air.
Julian drove one-handed, elbow resting against the door, the faint glow of the dashboard reflecting in his eyes. "You ever notice how the city feels quieter after a escaping a anomaly?"
I glanced out the window, watching a patrol drone glide past above us — a sleek black sphere marked with the Bureau insignia. "Yeah," I said. "It's like the world doesn't want to remind us what normal sounds like."
He smiled faintly. "Normal's overrated anyway."
For a while, neither of us said anything. The radio played low — some old tune from before the Bureau's rise, smooth and melancholic. We passed a marketplace still half-open despite the late hour; vendors packing away food stalls, stray dogs slipping through alleys, a group of kids tossing a glowing ball between them. Life went on, stubbornly unbothered by what lurked beyond the Bureau's containment zones.
"Society is strange," Julian said after a moment. "People keep living their lifes, completely unaware they could die to a anomaly any second. And we-- The rescue department? We're meant to save them but not allowed to even warn them."
"Like the anomalies and its casualties are needed for this world." I replied quietly.
He gave me a side glance, smiling. "Philosophical now, huh? Must be the wine."
"Maybe," I said with a shrug. "Or maybe it's just nice to have one night that doesn't feel like I'm running for my life."
He chuckled softly. "You'll get more of those, Weaver. Eventually."
When he stopped the car near my House, the air was cool, and the moon peeked faintly through a thin curtain of clouds.
"Before you go, there's something i wanted to give you." He spoke quietly.
"Huh?"
He extended his hand, holding a small pack of chewing gums.
"Uh... Is my breath really that bad?" I took the gum and pocketed them.
"Its an item actually. One not sold or made by the Bureau."
"You're telling me these gums are anomalous items?"
He smirked and nodded "Such items come in all shapes or forms. Even as food."
"Right..." I carefully inspected the gums but didnt really notice anything special about it "so what do these gums do exactly?"
"Night vision, basically." He smirked, almost proud of the item. "It honestly tastes like rat poison, but it gives you slight night vision while the taste lasts. Once the taste of it fades, the night vision does aswell. Never swallow it though, that might risk contamination. Just spit it out."
'This piece of chewing gums is pretty useful huh?'
"And you're just giving it to me for free? Whats the catch?"
"I am giving it for free. See it as a welcome gift. Besides I have another pack of these left, 8 entire gums."
"Wait but this one has only 3 pieces left..."
Julian shrugged, a smug expression on his face "I and Agent Ares might have used the other 5... but still, its a free item. I wouldnt complain if I were you."
"Well its better than nothing, yeah. Didnt expect my first item to be a half eaten pack of gums though..."
I thanked him and got up from the car. The wind brushed cold across my face as I stepped out.
I leaned against the car for a second, hands in my pockets, while Julian rolled down the window.
"Tomorrow at eight," Julian reminded. "Floor 56B. Don't be late."
"Got it, Dad," I said, mock-saluting. "Thanks again — for the dinner and the night vision gum."
"Don't mention it." He smirked. "Consider it your welcome gift"
He drove off, taillights vanishing into the fog that drifted lazily over the street.
I stood there for a moment, listening to the faint hum of the city, the rhythmic drip of water from a nearby awning. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed — sharp, quick, then gone.
When I finally made it upstairs, the fox was curled up on the couch again, half-asleep, one ear twitching as I entered.
"Still sleeping, huh?" I muttered.
It opened one eye — golden this time — gave a lazy yawn, then turned away.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and collapsed into the chair across from it.
"Guess im not the only one feeling a little tired huh?"
The fox flicked its tail in response, like it agreed.
Outside, the city pulsed quietly — alive, sprawling, and unaware of the next anomaly waiting to surface.
But for now, everything was still.
And that was enough.