Eric Aldaman had finally embraced his destiny. With a solemn nod to his past and a steady gaze toward the future, he officially registered with the Executive Bureau of the Mystic Society.
Monday arrived with alarming swiftness, and the bureaucratic process moved even quicker than he anticipated. Of course, that was thanks to Gerald's relentless assistance, a man who wielded influence like a blade through paper.
"And here," Gerald announced, pushing open a broad, reinforced door with a metallic creak, "you have the crew you'll be working with to uphold mystic laws and maintain order."
Eric followed closely behind, his footsteps light but his nerves heavier than they had been in weeks.
"Allow me to introduce Mister Aldaman," Gerald declared, stepping aside, "to the members of the Second Division."
The room ahead was modest, yet carried an air of strange, intimate disorder. It smelled faintly of burnt incense, sweat, and something vaguely synthetic like machine oil mingled with magic residue.
The Mystic Society's executive arms were divided into units known as divisions. There was no fixed number, some units housed over a hundred operatives, while others functioned effectively with just a handful.
Each division's size was a matter of its captain's preference, whether for tighter coordination or broader reach. Gerald, captain of the Second Division, valued intimacy and synergy. He had sculpted his team with precision, trimming away excess until only the best remained.
He didn't believe in cluttering his squad with deadweight. No, he desired mastery, loyalty, and competence. That was why, up until now, his division had only two members. No more. No less.
Today, Eric would become the third.
"Come in, Mister Aldaman. Introduce yourself," Gerald encouraged with a clap to Eric's shoulder.
He would have done just that if either of the division members had shown the slightest hint of awareness that someone new had stepped into the room.
One of them was so engrossed with his console that Eric might as well have been invisible. The other? Leaning against the side wall with his back turned, seemingly lost in whatever odd business kept him from acknowledging even the captain's arrival.
"Joseph, put that damned console down or I swear to the LORD's, I'll smash it to pieces!" Gerald barked, the air vibrating with restrained wrath. "And Xander! Get your perverted ass over here and stop rubbing yourself on the poster!"
"…He's what now?" Eric blurted, his voice cracking slightly from disbelief. Had he heard that correctly?
Gerald gave no further explanation. Nor did Eric ask again.
The outburst, however, served its purpose.
The two members Joseph, the gaming zealot, and Xander… the enigma, snapped to attention as if the sound of their captain's fury had physically yanked them upright. Joseph dropped the console like it had turned molten in his hands, while Xander, grumbling under his breath, straightened and turned to face them.
"Cap! You're here already? Damn, didn't hear ya come in," Xander grinned, tossing on a faux-innocent charm like a mask.
Xander was massive, brawny in a way that made the word "brute" feel like an understatement. Towering at what had to be somewhere near 6'10", he was a slab of muscle with legs. His presence alone felt like a bear had been given a human form and taught how to smirk.
Joseph, on the other hand, had a contrasting beauty. He was effeminate in the most deceiving way, with delicate facial features that could confuse a man in the wrong lighting. His long, silky hair fell like cascading ink, further amplifying the illusion.
"Don't give me that 'Cap, you're here' nonsense," Gerald snapped, striding toward the wall like a man on a mission. "How many times have I told you to quit doing that to the poster? I've had it. That damned thing is coming down today!"
Gerald reached toward the wall, fury surging through each step.
"No! Not Mari-chan!" Xander shouted, diving dramatically to the floor and clutching at Gerald's leg with both arms. "Leave her alone!"
Slouched on the ground, the hulking man now resembled a toddler begging for candy, if said toddler could crush bones with a flex of his fingers.
Eric's curiosity got the better of him, and he glanced over to inspect the infamous poster. It featured an anime-style girl dressed far more scandalously than modest society would allow. She was barely covered, her pose flirtatious and suggestive.
So that was Mari-chan.
Eric cleared his throat quietly, drawing his own silent conclusions. He had heard of individuals like Xander, devotees of such fictional women. Seeing it in action was… an experience.
"Let go of me, you walking mountain!" Gerald growled, trying to shake Xander off, but the man's grip was unrelenting. "You freaking gorilla! Release my leg!"
Gerald struggled, it was hopeless. Xander had latched on like a vice, immovable and relentless.
Damn, Eric thought, watching the bizarre tug-of-war unfold. That grip strength is no joke.
"Aldaman, a little help here?" Gerald turned to him, one leg stuck in Xander's death hold.
Eric flinched. 'Really? You're dragging me into this circus?'
"Touch Mari-chan, and you're dead to me," Xander warned, eyes narrowing into venomous slits as he hissed the words with genuine malice.
Eric paused. There had to be something deeper about that poster to elicit such ferocity. But he wasn't about to challenge it.
Meanwhile, Joseph, now sitting cross-legged with his arms folded, finally spoke, his voice casual, almost bored.
"Aldaman, huh?" he repeated, eyebrow twitching slightly. "Any relation to Dwayne Aldaman?"
Eric turned, answering with polite curiosity. "I can't say for certain. But if he has silver hair and carries the Aldaman name, then yes, he's likely from my clan. Not that it means much anymore. The Aldaman line is… nearly extinct."
Joseph scoffed, tossing a hand lazily in the air. "Great. Another born genius."
Eric blinked. 'Wait, what?' Nothing about what he'd said was remotely arrogant. But okay. If Joseph wanted to keep his distance, Eric wasn't about to beg for friendship.
With Xander clinging to Gerald like a child shielding his plushie and Joseph offering backhanded comments like a disinterested aristocrat, Eric was beginning to grasp the unique insanity of the Second Division.