"Are you fucking high right now?" a voice yelled out, echoing throughout the dark confines of the office room, seemingly bouncing off the walls and into Mr. Valen's eardrums.
The voice was male.
The office smelled of a stench he was used to, that funky mix of sterilizer, and expensive air freshener.
Looking up, Mr. Valen felt his gaze blur; he could hardly see the person or people in front of him, not that he cared, but being able to see would be considered important, so he blinked.
"Cleaning boy, I said are you fucking high?" The voice repete-
"No, sir," Mr. Valen responded, his mouth reeking of cheap alcohol, whilst his gaze stabilized, his stoned mind gradually realizing the gravity of the situation he was in.
Before he came to work, he had stopped at a local pub to calm himself. He had only intended to take a few shots, but then he met his plug, who had given him a great deal he couldn't refuse.
«I know what you're thinking, but I'm not dumb, I called in sick but my boss refused saying I'd better come in to work today or he'd fire me, I need this job or I'm dead.»
The man in front of him appeared to be a middle-aged white guy, complete with a white shirt, a black tie, and a single bulging vein on top of his balding head.
The color of his pants and his choice of footwear were easily imaginable, even to the likes of you.
He was the manager of the sanitary department, that was all his intellect allowed.
He was also the cliche definition of a shitty boss, he even had the complimentary pot belly that came with the title.
Fearing that his silence would anger the man more than he had already done, Mr. Valen stuttered. "I'm sorry I lied sir, I-I'm going through something."
"Ohh he's going through something," the unnamed man mimicked, before saying. "I think I've been too lenient, do I look like I'm twelve years old?"
"No Mr. Walter," Mr. Valen responded, not wanting to meet his boss's gaze
"Because of you, your supervisor couldn't work on my systems this morning, he says you're with his USB drive," Walter muttered and then turned to him. "As an apology to both me and your supervisor, half your pay will be given to him this month-"
"Huh," Mr. Valen interrupted, adding with a frantic stutter. "B-but I need my salary, sir, I'm rea-"
"No one gives a fuck, and for interrupting me you'll be handling your supervisor's cleaning for today, now get out of my office before I give him the other half," Walter intoned before waving Mr. Valen out.
Watching Walter wave him out like a pest, Mr. Valen felt hurt. On one hand, he wanted to retort, to snap back, but a good part of him knew that he needed this job, not just to get by but to pay back what he owed.
Before leaving, he glanced at the mirror his boss always kept for some reason, and he observed himself.
A tall youth wearing a stained dark blue overall, his dark eyes looked unwell, a bit sunken, his hair messy, and his overall expression stoned.
He worked as a sterilizer in this GPV—sterilizer being a fancy word for janitor, a job where he had to sterilize containment vaults.
The appearance of passageways opened the floodgates for a wave of scientific advancements for humanity.
The bodies of slain Skilion were bought by the Eagle Alliance, then stored for research purposes. Of course, evolved beasts were also stored, but as a low-level sterilizer, he had no authority to access those vaults.
"Would you stop daydreaming and leave my office," Walter yelled as he noticed Mr. Valen lingering.
"Even among janitors I'm low level," Mr. Valen scoffed as he left the room, his movements hurried.
Outside Walters' office, the smell of disinfectants was even stronger, accompanied by the sight of a winding hall.
A hall illuminated by white, sometimes flickering fluorescent lights.
Mr. Valen hated these halls; they reminded him of something he couldn't just put his finger on, and yet he had no choice but to work here.
He moved quickly, sometimes passing a circular vault-like door, made of metal, with a glaring red light in the middle.
But this was not his destination.
He walked for a few minutes, passing by a staff member in a white coat and some fellow colleagues who paid him no attention.
He then stopped in front of a normal-looking door, a sign up front reading: lounge.
Mr. Valen took a deep breath, then put his ear to the door, as though expecting something.
All he heard—all there was to hear, were the muffled nothing's, the voices of the people inside.
"What's the deal with that kid I saw earlier,"
"Valen? Yeah, you should stay away from him."
"Shut up, Sahara. Why are you bothering the rookie?"
"I'm telling the truth, why do you even talk to him anyway? I heard he got here using the slot provided by the Viper gang."
"Yeah, he's probably one of those debtors they talk about on the news."
"But for the Viper gang to give you a job, I mean you have to be owing them some serious money."
"What do you think he used the money for?"
"Have you seen him, he probably bought a shit ton of drugs and wasted himself."
Having listened in enough, Mr. Valen took another deep breath, his insides stinging. "You are above it, they do not define you, you are above it they do not define you," he chanted in his mind.
Then he opened the door.
The smell of sterilizer was still present, stiflingly so, but this time, it was drowned out by the smell of food.
In a way it was refreshing, but that refreshed feeling died as soon as Mr. Valen laid eyes on the people in the room.
The room itself was rather large about three times the size of a standard room.
It was bright, with large windows allowing light to flood the room. There were three to four sofas arranged around a table, and in turn four people in the room.
The first was a man with brown hair and eyes; his hair was combed to the side, while his uniform was neatly ironed. Despite his reservations, Mr. Valen had to admit he looked pleasant.
But he hated him.
«Hate is a strong word don't you think?»
"Bob, my man," the brown haired man called out his name, or at least what he thought was his name.
«I hate him.»
"It's Valen," Mr. Valen corrected with a forced smile, the likes of which the brown haired man ignored.
The other two ladies seemed peeved at his presence dragging the new intern out while they left the room, nodding to the brown haired man as they passed.
"Hi, Sahara," Mr. Valen greeted one of them as a formality, but he was ignored.
"Fucking tweaker," she muttered as she left not caring if he heard.
Mr. Valen took a breath calming himself as he began conversing with the brown haired man before him.
"Hello Supervisor," he acknowledged the man with a forced smile that made him look more like a creeper than anything else.
The brown haired man upon hearing Mr. Valen address him, stood up and responded while walking to him. "I thought I told you to call me by my name Tom?"
"Sorry, Sebastian," Mr. Valen corrected himself ignoring the wrong name as he immediately added. "Hey listen I've got this favor to ask man, the boss said he'd add half of my salary to yours, the thing is-"
"Yeah I heard, also heard you're finishing up for me," he interrupted before adding. "Is there a problem?"
"Well you see, I kinda need money this month I'm short on expenses and I was wondering-"
"No, can't do brother," Sebastian cut him short, chuckling as he said. "The boss warned me not to give it back to you, you wouldn't want me to get in trouble now, would you? Ohh, before I forget, I thought I told you you'd have to fix the Boss's computer today. I had to lie to the Boss because of you."
Sebastian didn't really have knowledge of computers, well, he did, but not at the level where he was able to fix and update the company's system, which requires some level of coding knowledge.
To do that, you'd need to hire a tech expert or, alternatively, a desperate college graduate who studied computer science and was looking to make an extra buck in the workplace.
The reason why Mr. Valen let Sabastain take the credit for his work was because of money.
If his boss knew that it was him doing all the work he'd pay little to nothing at all, but if it was Sabastain he would most likely give him a cut of the maintenance money he pocketed, with Sabastain giving him a cut as well.
"Now let's go, I'll show you where I have to clean for today," Sabastain said as he moved to open the door, but Mr. Valen didn't follow him. Why?
Turning back, Sabastain noticed that Mr. Valen stood still, his eyes as though he was in a daze. "WTF is wrong with this idiot?" he muttered.
Mr. Valen, on the other hand, was experiencing things quite differently. He just blinked, and he noticed that he was in a white room, the smell of strong sterilizer numbing his nostrils.
'So this is why the smell of fertilizer feels so familiar,' he thought as he tried to look around, but he had no time.
"Tang!"
The sound of metal hitting metal rang out. Mr. Valen had deflected a sword, his opponent a child no more than five years old, and judging by the size of his hands, he was of the same age.
Both of them moved swiftly, their speed unspeakable for children their age.
"Tang!"
"Tang!"
Sparks flew yet none of them showed any signs of letting up. Despite all this, Mr. Valen felt calm, like-
"Hey Tom," a loud voice suddenly brought him back to reality, his breath hitching as he took a step back.
"What's up with you? You've gotta stop taking whatever it is you're on bro," Sabastain chuckled as he walked out the door, Mr. Valen following close behind him, his expression tinged with worry.
"What are these flashbacks?" Mr. Valen asked himself.