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⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀★

𝟬𝟭. 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗣
"ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇꜱ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛᴀᴄʜᴇ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀʟ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ."
ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀᴅꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ɪʀᴇʟᴀɴᴅ...

ADDISON WALSH STARES AT THE OPEN FILE SITTING ON HIS DESK, his eyes unable to leave the image of his best friend that could do nothing but stare back up at him. Photographs don't do people any sort of justice and her eyes just look lifeless on the page. He wants to look away. But it's Nessa. He can't. He shouldn't. He must remember.

He feels so empty staring at her green eyes, his heart calling questions into the darkness for her.

Why did you rush headfirst into danger?

Why did you have to die?

Why did you leave me?

Questions, questions, questions. But never any answers. Just the echo of her final breaths haunting his brain and the memory of those beautiful green eyes losing their light for the millionth time. He shivers when she dies again in his memories, an unseen hand tracing a cold chill under his clothes and down his back until he wants nothing more than to run away. Run far away and never come back.

"Walsh!" A familiar voice pulls Addison away from the predator of his mind and back into the light. Everything comes back to him in brief snapshots.

He's at the Supernatural Security Bureau.

Today is his first day back since the case on Hellbound's slaughter closed.

And he's being called by Captain Nathanael Kovacs.

"Sir?" Addison moves to stand.

Kovacs beckons him into his office as he passes by, walking at a brisk pace. "My office, Walsh. We need to discuss something now that you're finally back to work. Tired of being behind the desk yet?"

He resists the urge to sigh and follows his boss into the dimly lit office. It was always kept darker here than the rest of the floor because Kovacs would often get headaches caused by the bright fluorescent lights all over the SSB. Addison likes the darkness more, gives him leeway so he doesn't have to manage his facial expressions as much. And it was cooler here too.

"Captain, what's this about?"

"Your therapist tells me you've been making some progress." Kovacs starts in an oddly conversational tone, one that isn't often used and can easily raise suspicion. Without waiting for any comment on Addison's part, Kovacs continues on. "Good. Because you've been gone a few months and, while you've been grieving and recovering from the little bloodbath birthday party Asmodeus threw for himself, things have been getting a little hectic on the demon side of things."

This catches his attention.

"What do you mean? Hectic how?" Addison asks as he shifts nervously in front of Kovacs' desk. The captain motions for him to take a seat, he does so quickly as though afraid Kovacs would take it back in an instant.

Nathanael Kovacs is an odd sort of man. He resembles a hawk more than anything with a long and slightly hooked nose that reminds his subordinates of a beak. His fingers are elegantly twiglike with sharp and bony joints, the claws of the bird. He's also thin and has these dark, hooded eyes that are perpetually surrounded by gloomy circles. He's not the kind of man that you see smile often so when he does, it's unnerving and this realization occurs to Addison that this is the first time he has seen Kovacs smile. Ever.

"Ohhh goodie gumdrops! I was just hoping you'd ask." The smile is vicious now, his slightly yellowed teeth standing out amongst the dim light of the office. "All tiers of demons are starting to pop up over the map, even the lowest of the low like we're talkin' sub-class level two trickster demons that are messing with babies and makin' em scream their little heads off in the nursery. We got some real scumbags out there and they're all indicative of your boy Asmodeus stirring something up. Somethin' big."

His heart drops into his stomach.

"What do you mean? Asmodeus went back to Hell, Sir."

Kovacs laughs a little but the sound is hollow and Addison can hear how fake it is. "Maybe the last you saw of him, sure. Sure. But there have been more reports, Walsh."

Addison's mouth suddenly feels dry. He moves to stand but stops himself halfway. Everything inside of him wants to run and hide but this isn't something one can very well hide from, is it? If the king of demons is truly back among the Nature Realm, then that can only mean one thing.

"Addison."

He looks up into the captain's eyes. It's the first time Kovacs has ever said his first name. The sudden use feels intimate and serious.

"Yes, Sir?"

"We need you back."

"... yes, Sir."

[A camera turns on, red dot flashing in the corner.]
WEDNESDAY, 0930.

"For the record, state your name, age, and what the hell you think makes you so qualified to be part of the new Hellbound Team."

"Tara Rose Thompson, twenty-seven." The polite response comes from a pretty, young-looking woman who is sitting under a single lightbulb. She has her hands folded in her lap, a little smile beginning to show. "I've been in the SSB for some time now. I heard what Asmodeus did, we all heard about it... I'm here because I want to preserve our future. If the King of Demons were to get what he wants, we wouldn't have a future."

There is a brief silence. Tara maintains a smile.

"Do you have a family, Miss Thompson?" His question is quiet and his voice contains less attitude than before. "People who would miss you if something happened on this mission?"

Their smile appears strained now. "No, Sergeant."

"You have nobody?"

"No."

"Where did they go? What happened to them?"

She shifts in her seat, it creaks under them. "They died. A long time ago."

He coughs from behind the camera. "What do you think you could contribute to the team? Tell me what you think makes you strong, then tell me what you think makes you weak. And why. I want to hear what you think of yourself."

Some tension visibly dissipates from Tara's shoulders as the subject changes. They appear more relaxed now. Finally, something they can talk about without getting too into shit with someone she doesn't even know. "Well... I'm good at fighting the shit that goes bump in the night. You give me a nine-mil and I can do some serious damage with that. Or anything, really. I have my own arsenal."

He waits.

"I know everything about the wilderness and how to live in it. I like to think of myself as... oddly persistent, even in the face of uncertainty." Tara's smile melts into a shit-eating smirk. "I'm only so determined because I know I'll always find a way. I'm a survivor. At the end of the day, that's what I'm best at. That's what I'm bringing to the table."

"Okay."

"And I know where I am lacking. Sometimes, the few things I do actually fear can cripple me. But I know exactly what's going on in my head and I know how to avoid running into those things." They start to fidget with their hands. She looks down. The inside of both wrists reveals flashes of ink. "I have hearing loss, too. Not a lot but enough."

"We'll discuss those things later. I want to know what you think this mission is going to look like."

Tara meets the interviewer's eyes, staring almost directly into the camera. "I don't know. I know this isn't going to be a trip across the rainbow bridge to steal glitter out of a unicorn's ass... but I don't know what it'll look like, Sergeant. I think everything is up in the air, don't you?"

"You don't want to know what I think, Miss Thompson."

[The camera cuts. Then it comes on again, a red dot flashing in the corner. This is a separate recording now.]
WEDNESDAY, 1100.

"For the record, state your name, age, and why you're sitting across from me right now."

Under the same single lightbulb as before sits a ruggedly handsome man, whose voice does not disappoint. But it comes out clipped and measured, clearly from a disciplined and focused mind. He is to-the-point and precise in every manner of both his physicality and the way he speaks.

"Ezra Clearwater, thirty-seven." His voice is harsh. Gruff. There's a burning intensity behind his eyes that is hard to look away from. "I'm sitting here because I want to work on a team. I've been hunting solo for a long time, and you need people. It only makes sense."

"How many have you hunted?"

"Enough."

"What made you start hunting?"

Ezra remains silent. The silence drags on as the interviewer waits.

"I asked you a question."

"I'm not going to answer it."

"Why?"

"It's not really your business, is it?" Ezra glances away, then back in the interviewer's direction. "Look, we're both here to work. So we should work. Together. I don't care about your personal life and you sure as hell don't get to care about mine. Ask me something else if you need to because I'm not answering that and I'm not leaving this room until you accept me on the team."

Quiet.

Then...

"What would you bring to Hellbound?"

Ezra is back to business, as professional as before. "Strategy. Tactics. Discipline." He leans forward with his elbows resting on the edge of the table. There's an aura about him that seems to draw others in. "I survived for so long because I took the time to think, and use my head instead of my heart. I can bring you an informed decision about almost anything. I can help make choices. I can create new ones. I can devise and enact plans."

"So you'd call yourself a thinker."

"Yes."

"You could train others, then?"

"If needed."

"It's needed."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

[You know this by now. New clip, red dot flashing. Camera on.]
WEDNESDAY, 1220.

"For the record, state your name, age, and what you can do."

"Jason Drake, thirty-five. I'm currently a medical officer in another division of the SSB." This time there is a conventionally handsome man sitting across from the camera, with a pair of glasses resting high on the bridge of his nose. He has dark skin and kind eyes. He sits leaned back in the chair, picturesque of someone who is calm, collected, in control of himself. When he speaks, it is soft and gentle.

"Why did you apply for this position?" The interviewer asks. "Your current division would be a lot safer than this one, we are going up against the King of Demons after all."

Jason tilts his head to the side a little. "I just want to help people. Almost everyone on your old team died, Sergeant Walsh. You were all that was left. I remember hearing the news, and it hurt me. I can only imagine what you went through, what you saw."

The interviewer stands up and the sound of his chair being pushed in comes across next. Jason's eyes follow the man. He does not walk into view of the camera, instead staying behind the table. There is no sound of footsteps. He just stands.

"I want to prevent that," Jason continues. His voice is, impossibly, even softer now. "You won't be alone again. I won't let that happen."

His voice is rough, choked up with emotion. "I didn't ask for that."

"You don't need to."

"You-" the interviewer stops and takes a moment, then he continues. "What are you the most afraid of, Lieutenant Drake?"

As the change of topic comes, Jason takes it in stride. "I really don't like insects?" he shrugs nonchalantly. "What kind of a question is that?"

"No. No, give me a real answer."

Jason's face turns to stone. He suddenly sounds grim and any amusement from before is entirely gone now as he sits a little straighter in the creaky chair. His voice has an element of loss to it, something powerful. "I'm scared of losing people. And I'm scared of Hell. And getting attached if it's just going to be ripped away from me. That- that is what I am most afraid of, Sergeant. I think that is the worst reality I could endure."

"Then why would you want to join Hellbound? We're bound to lose people."

"Because those people are worth knowing." Jason's voice is strong. "Even if some of them are lost, even if I can't help them, they are worth remembering and as long as someone remembers them, they're not actually lost. I won't let it happen. I refuse to."

"I'm scared of things too, Lieutenant."

"I know."

Softer now.

Jason pays the camera no heed as he stands from the chair, it scrapes against the concrete floor loudly. He walks out of view and directly to the interviewer. When he speaks again, his voice is louder than before and it sounds like he is right next to the camera. Even though he speaks in a gentle tone, his manner is strong again.

"And I know that's why you want to build a strong team, Sergeant Walsh. I cannot promise you anything about the future of this mission, but I can tell you that I will be there every step of the way if you let me. Nobody is going to die if I have something to say about it. You won't be left alone again."

There is silence.

[Red dot, flashing. New clip.]
WEDNESDAY, 1400.

"For the record, state your name and age."

"Tamara Rebecca Chandra, but it's just Tommy, got it?" A young woman sits in the chair now, leaned way back with her heels thrown on the edge of the table. She's wearing some beat-up sneakers and an outfit that really isn't all that professional, at least not by the usual SSB suit-and-tie standards that went on in the main offices like where this interview was being held. But they don't look bad. She's pretty. She has black hair and brown skin. And their attitude simply fills the otherwise empty room. They feel larger than they are simply by their presence alone. "And I'm thirty-four."

"Miss Chandra, could you please tell me why you're here?"

Annoyance flashes over Tommy's face. "Tommy." She reminds him, more grit behind her voice now. "I'm here for personal reasons."

"We all are, Tommy. What made you want the SSB? Do you even know what the SSB does?"

She crosses her arms. "Yes," they say confidently. "Sorta. I know enough to know that if I want to get some answers about what happened to Zander, this is the place to do it. That's what the Supernatural Security Bureau is all about, isn't it? Getting answers?"

The interviewer sighs. "Problem solving, to say the least." Some papers rustle. "Look, I read your application and the background check. I know what happened to your friend was terrible and you want that problem to be solved, you want it to go away. Maybe you even think he could come back. But did you even think about this before you filled your application out? It feels rushed. It looks rushed, your handwriting is sloppy and your sentences incomplete. I think you need to take more time to consider this."

Tommy goes quiet for a moment.

"I didn't think about it." She responds. "Not really, like I didn't sit there and think every avenue out, no, but I thought about what needs to be done. Where I'm supposed to go. This is the only right answer."

"What would you give to the team? Why should I consider letting you on?"

She suddenly removes her heels from the table and sits up in their chair. They turn their head for a moment, and her hearing aids catch the light. "I'm fast. And light. And I can do things other people can't, or won't." She looks back at the interviewer. "I can hold my own. You wouldn't have to worry about me. I'm a survivor."

"... you're an acrobat."

"Yes."

"I think that could be useful, Tommy. Really."

"Of course you do, you damn fool." Tommy remarks, a smirk lighting her features. "You'd be stupid to think otherwise. You need people. You need me. I can do what needs to be done and every leader needs someone like that."

The interviewer makes a noise like a scoff. "Okay, Hotshot. Cool your jets. You haven't had any of the training that is mandatory for all SSB operatives yet. The interview is only the first step. You think you can make it?"

"I know I can."

[Camera. Red dot. Flashing. Corner.]
WEDNESDAY, 1500.

"For the record, state your name, age, and what you want out of this interview."

"Valeria Espinosa, and I'm twenty-eight." A carefully poised young woman sits in the chair now, mannerism completely different from the last interviewee. She has her hands folded in her lap. There is visible tension in her and hanging in her voice when she speaks, she's a quiet sort of person and quiet can mean dangerous. Valeria is wearing a simple red blouse and a black pencil skirt, the perfect outfit for an interview. Her eyes avoid the camera entirely. "After this interview, I want you to say yes."

"Well we'll see about that." He rifles through some papers for a moment, Valeria's eyes following every movement. "What's motivating you, Miss Espinosa? I see here you're from Spain."

"I am." She nods once. Her voice is rough with raw emotion, unspent anger. "Demons motivate me, Sergeant."

"Who did they take from you?"

Valeria breaks eye contact and looks down at the table, focusing there. "My mother," she grits her teeth. "My biological mother, my father. Sister. And years later, my adoptive parents, Rachel and Brian. Everyone I've loved. Because of me."

There is a silence between them for a few moments.

Valeria looks up at him behind the camera.

"And I heard they took who you loved, too." She frowns. "We're probably not so different in what motivates us, Sergeant."

He clears his throat. "That doesn't matter right now. Tell me about what you can do. What kind of skills do you have? What separates you from the other candidates I have?"

Valeria's careful poise returns. "I'm very strong. And I like to kick ass."

"How strong are we talking here?"

"Let's just say I could pick up a car if I had to."

"I don't believe that one till I see it," he scoffs in disbelief. "Is that all? Strength?"

She shakes her head. "No, growing up I was a performer in gymnastics and I studied a few different forms of fighting in my spare time. I graduated from college with an associate's degree that had a large focus on demonology. So, I guess you could say I know things." Valeria tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear, it is shoulder-length and shining under the white light.

Movement is heard behind the camera. He folds his arms.

"Are you scared of demons, Miss Espinosa?"

It's an honest question with no hidden barbs, but the silence does drag for a moment.

Valeria sighs. "Who isn't, Sergeant Walsh?"

[Next clip. Red dot.]
WEDNESDAY, 1600.

"For the record, please state your name and age."

"For the record, my name is Nova Alejandra Cordero and I'm here to kick ass, take names, and get this damned job."

"And your age."

"Thirty-two. I was getting there, asswipe." A strong figure sits on the edge of the chair now, perched there like she could dive over the table at any second and maybe (possibly?) strangle the man behind the camera. Despite this, Nova has a very attractive face with intense eyes and dark hair that falls past her shoulders, mostly unkempt. She is wearing a black top and frayed black jeans that have seen some years of use.

He hums quietly, a little noise of disapproval. "Well you're certainly far from professional, I'd say," he remarks and the sound of pen on paper comes over the camera. "You always gonna be like this?"

Nova remains unchanged. "Maybe." She shrugs then reaches across the table and taps the stack of papers that includes her own file. "How many have you interviewed today?"

"Five others."

"I assume you'd want to know all the standard stuff," Nova starts picking at her nails. They're painted with black nail polish that's chipping at the edges. "What I'm good at, what I suck at. Why I'm here. All that?"

"Those are the usual questions of an interview, yes, Miss Cordero."

"Great." She grins wickedly and meets his gaze again. "Then you should know I have an eidetic memory, I'm the youngest of seven so I know how to scrap, and I'm smart as shit. But you can read all of that in my file. You seem competent enough. Ask me something real for once, not some bullshit pre-made question that you don't care about. Let's cut the crap, okay?"

Silence.

Then, a small laugh.

"You've got guts," he remarks. "Moxie. I'll certainly give you that. In the spirit of this game, I'll play along. Have you ever come face to face with a demon before? Even a low level one? A trickster? Anything?"

Nova squints a little while she thinks. "Probably a few," she recalls. "Many years ago. I'm not sure. Hasn't everyone?"

"No."

"Huh." She remarks. "Well, then."

"Asmodeus is the King of All Demons... will you run if you come face to face with him? If your team is counting on you? What will you do?"

Nova hardens, shoulders becoming tense suddenly. "I don't know." She answers honestly. "How can anyone know the answer to something like that until they encounter it?"

"I've been asking myself the same thing."

[Next. Red. Dot.]
WEDNESDAY, 1645.

A new recording has started and this time it begins with a ghastly thin man taking disinfectant wipes to the interview table and chair, scrubbing on them for a few minutes while Addison waits in silence. When he's done, he huffs a relieved breath and slumps into the seat in front of the camera tiredly. He is dressed in a very nice, expensive black suit-and-tie; he's actually one of the few candidates who looks like he belongs in this room, at this time.

Next he pushes his brown hair back from his forehead and cleans his hands, one at a time being sure to get under his nails and cleaning each digit individually. When he's finished, he looks with disdain at the camera set up across from him.

"All done now?" Addison's voice is low.

The man nods curtly. "Yes. Your space was rather dirty," he complains. "I cannot believe you wouldn't clean the room after other people have been in here! I watched them all walk in and out, I saw what kind of people they are. I don't want to get sick because of them."

A bone-weary sigh sounds out.

"For the record, please state your name and age."

"Oakley Abbott, thirty-seven." The man sniffles and holds his chin high. While he's certainly handsome enough, his entire demeanor screams Punch me! the moment he opens his mouth and he seems to put on airs in front of his interviewer. "What is your name?"

"Addison Walsh."

Oakley seems to examine him closely, leaning forward slightly in his chair. "Hm. Well, Mr. Walsh, can I ask you something?"

"You just did. But sure."

"If I get this job, I'll be sure to see the demon King Asmodeus, is that correct?" Oakley's eyes shine with a rather strange light in them, an odd mixture of fear and excitement. "Not at first, obviously... but eventually?"

"Yes...?"

Oakley nods. "Splendid. You have no idea how badly I want to wipe that stain from this planet forever." He wrings his hands together. "I'm a bit scared, I'll admit, but I don't think you'll find a better candidate than the one sitting across from you now, Mr. Walsh."

"And why is that?" The edge of Addison's figure leans into frame as he leans across the table, weight on his elbows.

"The pen is mightier than the sword," Oakley says. "Knowledge is power. I possess great skill in both wielding the pen and holding onto knowledge. I suspect brute strength wasn't enough to end King Asmodeus the first time, so maybe we should try a better approach."

"Maybe."

"I'm good at that, too," Oakley remarks with no small amount of self-satisfaction. "Planning things. Charting moves. Preparing supplies. Based on the others I watched exit this tiny room, I doubt any of them think or feel the way I do about these sorts of things. I think multiple minds will be better this time. Then we can finally clean up this mess."

Addison finally finds something he can agree with.

"It certainly is a mess, isn't it, Mr. Abbott?"

[Red dot.]
WEDNESDAY, 1740.

"For the record, state your name, age, and why you want to work on my team."

A young brown skinned woman sits across from the camera now, she's squinting her eyes and is quiet as she carefully reads his lips. She has gorgeous dark curls and a gold necklace that hangs around her neck, a heart-shaped locket on the end of it. She begins to use sign language with a practiced ease when she speaks, simultaneously communicating both ways.

"My name is Diora Jude Aziz-Ismene. I am twenty-eight." Diora grins. "I want to work here because I want to stop demons from hurting others. I've seen too much bloodshed from our side, it's time they lost some too."

"I read about the plane crash in your file." He says slowly. "Tell me what happened."

Diora's smile fades. She is angry now, more upset than anything. She signs incredibly fast while she speaks and it's unsure which mode of communication is trying to keep up with the other. "I was leaving France. I wanted something better for myself, and the plane went down out of nowhere. Just started falling from the sky. I remember thinking I was going to die, that I should. There was no way to avoid it. When we hit the ground, it was like a light switch was turned off for me. When I woke up, it was in a hospital. I was later told it was some sort of 'malfunction' but I refuse to believe it. It was a demon's doing. It must have been."

"The SSB investigated that case."

"That does not surprise me." Diora frowns now. "What did they find?"

He sounds sad now. "Sulfur. High trace readings of demonic activity, indicative of some kind of supernatural presence all over that plane. It was doomed before it even left the ground. Nobody could've known what was coming to them."

Diora goes quiet.

Then, "Much like this mission is doomed before we begin."

"Yeah," Addison's voice is soft. "I guess it is. Except we know what to expect before we take off from the ground. Can you tell me what you think you could help us with? We've interviewed a lot of candidates so far."

"Yes." Diora pulls herself together and now crosses her legs. "I am adaptable, a quick-learner you could say. I will go wherever I am needed, I will learn any skills that come my way, and I will give every task my one-hundred-percent." She pauses. "And I'm a skilled martial artist."

"A jack-of-all-trades, then."

She nods.

"I'm glad you survived that plane crash."

"I am too. I want blood."

"I know."

[The last clip. Red dot. Flashing. Corner.]
WEDNESDAY, 1830.

This clip opens with a heavy sigh from Addison as he adjusts the camera on its tripod, face coming into view for a moment before he's back out of frame. On the other side of the camera sits a darker skinned man with neat hair gelled back, he is sitting in the chair silently and staring directly at his interviewer. There's a calmness about him that's almost eerie. But he looks good, he looks damn good. With a dark grey button-up and black dress pants, he cuts a sharp figure, his muscular body evident beneath his clothes.

The sound of Addison sitting comes over as he sighs.

"My last candidate."

"Your best candidate," the man remarks bluntly.

"For the record, state your name and age."

"Ishaan Mukesh Ambani. Thirty-two. Hacker Extraordinaire, at your service." Ishaan inclines their head slightly. "I applied to work in the Intelligence Division of this team but you don't appear to be, well, very tech-savvy."

Addison does not sound amused. "I'm not. But I am the leader of this team and you will still fall under my command at times. My brother, Sergeant Kang-Walsh, will be your immediate leadership. These interviews are being done by me because it is ultimately my team."

"Ah."

"I was reading your file. You're a college dropout."

Ishaan quirks an eyebrow. "I didn't want to be. Everything I am today, I had to become to survive. To take care of my only family. Who can blame me for adapting?"

"That's right, your sister." Addison says. "Arya, is it? I can tell she's important to you. You mentioned her a few times in your application."

"She's all I have."

"From the rest of your application, you don't sound very much like a team player." Addison clears his throat, then sounds as if he's reciting something from paper. "Says here on your personality test that you are insensitive, blunt, and often disloyal. Why should I accept someone with disloyal tendencies onto my team?"

"Well..." they start, shifting in their seat. "All I care about, truly and unequivocally, is my sister. I heard she can be kept safe, from past threats as well as present and future. That alone buys you my loyalty." Ishaan grins. "That is why you should take me. I can be deviously clever and when I am on your side, anything can happen."

"She'll be safe with us."

"Then you have my service."

CONFERENCE ROOM, 2040.

One by one the nine candidates interviewed by Addison all file into a large conference room that has a dinner spread across the table, catered by the courtesy of Captain O'Brien to congratulate the newest members of Team Hellbound. Addison waits outside of the room for a moment, hiding in the shadow behind the door as he looks through the glass at the interviewees beginning to get food. Anxiety builds in the pit of his stomach. His chest starts to hurt. He turns away.

This wasn't even the full team yet, Captain O'Brien was supposed to bring in five others including his brother Cody. What if he let them all down? What if he couldn't be a good leader? What if they lost and the world ended?

Thoughts swirling around his mind like a building storm, Addison fails to notice when Jason comes to the door of the conference room. He peeks out and sees Addison's back. Jason reaches out and touches his shoulder, earning a soft swear and startle from Addison.

"Damnú aír! Christ, Lieutenant, you scared me."

Jason smiles apologetically. "I'm sorry, Sergeant. And please just call me Jason."

Addison sighs a little and turns to face Jason, still lingering in the shadows. "Okay, Jason, did you need something? I was about to come in."

"I wanted to check on you." Jason takes half a step closer. "Are you okay?" he asks quietly, concern etched across his handsome features. "I can only imagine what you're feeling right now. What kind of thoughts must be going through your head. The fears you're probably facing."

Fuck, is he some sort of psychic? Addison thinks.

"I didn't realize I was so easy to read..." he says quietly. "I'm- I'm okay. For now. I just needed a moment before I have to go in front of them all. It's intimidating. It's terrifying, the idea that I'm in charge of these people's lives."

Jason nods and clasps a hand to Addison's shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. "We are in charge of their lives," he emphasizes. "You can do this, Sergeant. You're not alone. Come on and join us."

"Addison."

"Pardon?"

"You can... you can call me Addison, okay?"

"Sure thing. C'mon, Addison."

Lacey's Note:
This was hella long, so sorry but hope you guys enjoyed it! Not every character was mentioned this chapter and I'm sure you can see why (it's long asf) and we still have 5 more to introduce.

Characters introduced this chapter: Tara, Tommy, Jason, Ezra, Oakley, Ishaan, Diora, Nova, and Valeria.

To be introduced next chapter: Grayson, Cody, Sasha, Livia, and Cosmo.

Enjoy!