Agent Vick's Office
Vick sat at his desk, eyes on the screen while Michael hovered nearby.
"When did he add the boys' security clearance?" Vick asked quietly.
Michael leaned forward. "Yesterday evening, sir. Tistamp shows it was logged before the conflict with Nick started. Today, he's on cashier duty—upstairs."
Vick nodded slowly. "Summon him. Take over his station until he returns."
"Yes, Chief." Michael turned and exited.
Angela and Jones remained nearby, waiting for instructions. Angela eventually stepped forward, her tone careful.
"Chief… there's a chance this was just a misunderstanding. I know Nick can be petty, sure—but… I don't think he's the type to endanger soone intentionally. Maybe we should approach this delicately."
Vick studied her for a mont.
"I understand," he said. "You both can go now. Your mission's priority. Bring down that serial-killer demon—use all the resources you need. Let know if you require backup."
"Yes, Chief!" Angela and Jones replied in unison.
As the door shut behind them, silence settled over the office.
Agent Nick, now alone, opened a secured terminal and accessed the building's internal surveillance system. He navigated to the cara logs—specifically the footage from yesterday near the evidence room.
There—frozen on-screen—was Agent Vick standing beside the boys.
He pressed play.
And listened.
..................
After a short wait, Agent Nick knocked once and stepped into Vick's office.
"You summoned , Chief?" he said flatly.
Agent Vick looked up, staring at him for a long, silent mont—searching his expression, weighing his energy.
Then, calmly:
"Do you have sothing to tell ?"
Nick blinked. "I don't think so, sir. Hmm… am I supposed to report sothing?"
"I don't need a report," Vick replied, gesturing toward the chair across from his desk. "Have a seat. Let's talk."
Nick sat down, still confused, trying to anticipate the direction this conversation would take.
Vick kept his tone neutral. "What do you think of the boys, Nick? Be honest."
Nick didn't hesitate. "They have potential. But they lack discipline. If they're not trained properly, their childishness could backfire and cause problems."
Vick nodded slowly. "I agree—they need training. That's why I entrusted them to you. I saw you as a capable ntor. But now I need to understand: why are you playing gas with them?"
Nick flinched slightly.
Vick's voice dropped, colder now. "Don't insult with petty tricks. I'm not blind. Your pettiness nearly caused a serious incident today."
Nick straightened. "Chief, what do you an—'playing tricks'?"
Vick's eyes narrowed. "Yes, the boys may have embarrassed you. They pointed out your oversight—just like they pointed out mine. And they weren't wrong. The original mistake was ours. It nearly resulted in Agent Rex being banished. But today? This is on you."
He leaned forward, eyes locked on Nick's.
"Yesterday, during your tour of the facility, you failed to brief them on the evidence room protocols. And today? Instead of guiding them through the standard passive training route, you pushed them into the hardest track—on the first day. You even left the monitoring tablet in the gym."
Vick's voice sharpened. "They sohow completed it anyway. When I reviewed the gym footage. They tried to ask you about the tracking devices. You responded by saying you're 'not a babysitter.'"
Nick stayed silent.
"If you didn't want to train them," Vick said flatly, "you should've told . After the sparring session, you t them in the cafeteria. That should've been your mont—to prep them before entering the evidence room. You didn't. And don't pretend you forgot—you even talked about it with the other agents."
Nick shook his head, his expression darkening. "I was expecting them to co to before going in. Did they really enter unprotected? I warned them yesterday the room was dangerous."
Vick's fist hit the desk—once, sharp.
"Nick. I told you—no gas. You conveniently left out every important detail. With your arrogance, do you really think they'd feel like coming to you with questions? You manipulated the situation, so they'd walk into danger. You made them."
He paused—disappointed more than angry now.
"I had high expectations for you. I thought these two could beco our greatest assets—with your guidance. I thought you'd forge them into weapons."
His tone dropped.
"But I was wrong."
Vick stood, pacing slowly.
"While you were busy plotting, they were busy proving themselves. They went into the evidence room—and made the impossible happen. They cleansed every trace of demonic residue. Every cursed object, every drop of malevolent energy. That room is clean now—permanently. No protection needed."
He turned back to Nick.
"Luckily, no one was hurt. But you made reevaluate your place in this Division."
Vick's voice hardened.
"As of now, you're on probation. No field assignnts. No special missions. You'll handle basic store operations until further notice."
Nick's face tightened, but he stayed quiet.
"And don't even think of taking your frustration out on those boys. You know damn well—nothing escapes my eyes."
Vick gave him a long final stare.
"This is your last warning. One more mistake… and I reassign you to prison duty."
He turned away.
"You may go now."
There was no space left for rebuttal. No room for defense.
Agent Nick stood up silently—and left the room with intense fury burning inside him.
................... Agent Zack had briefed the boys thoroughly—outlining how to catalog closed case files, tag and archive evidence, and update the system.
Normally, every artifact inside the evidence room would be flagged as a cursed or dangerous item. But not anymore.
Thanks to their cleansing, the room had shifted from hazardous zone to sanctuary. And so, one by one, the boys reclassified the items—stripping old threat labels and updating their tadata. What was once ominous, beca inert.
But that was just the beginning.
To their own surprise, Samuel and Danny beca deeply absorbed in the case files. One after another, they opened them, devoured the data, and organized everything with precision and care.
What started as basic admin work quickly turned into obsession.
For the next few days, they fell into an ironclad rhythm:
Wake up. Train. Evidence room.
Over and over.
Like clockwork.
But it wasn't monotony—it was montum. Sothing had cracked open inside them.
They read case after case—demon types, cursed item recoveries, victim profiles, tactical write-ups—and the deeper they read, the more they understood the scope of X-Division's work.
These agents weren't just surviving supernatural threats. They were fighting hell with mortal hands.
With every page, a new respect blood in their hearts—for the Division, for the agents who bled quietly in the background, and for the world they now swore to protect.
The evidence room had beco more than a workplace.
It beca their sanctuary.
Their battleground of understanding.
And—if you asked them—their second living room.
Agent Vick watched them through the surveillance feed every so often, arms folded, expression unreadable.
He watched as they worked without being told.
Studied without being asked.
Organized, respected, learned—without ego.
And slowly, a smile touched the corner of his mouth.
"Well," he murmured to himself, "these boys… they're not bad at all."
To Be Continue.
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