Clickclickclickclick… click… click… [i]clank.[/i]

The four‑inch‑thick transparent containment wall shuddered, locks disengaging one by one with mechanical reluctance before it finally rolled aside. As always, the opening revealed a semicircle of watching faces—stern military personnel, clinical scientists with tablets poised, and at the centre of them all, the immovable presence of Agent Baker.

[color=89afcf]“Donald! How marvellous it is to see you, darling.”[/color]
Solace’s voice flowed out smooth and warm, a practiced melody of charm that only made the Agent’s jaw tighten behind his dark glasses.

“I’ve asked you not to refer to me like that, A‑0.” Baker’s tone was clipped, his gaze flicking toward the woman beside him as if confirming she’d heard the insolence. Then back to Solace. “You’ve been briefed on what’s happening. Don’t make me regret it. One misstep and you’re back in here. Do you understand?”

Solace held his stare, unblinking, the silence stretching just long enough to make the room shift uneasily.
[color=89afcf]“…Absolutely, Agent. We apologise. Please, proceed. I am… eager.”[/color]

The way Solace shaped the word eager made Baker’s brow crease, but the wheels were already turning far above his pay grade. He no longer had the authority to halt what had been set in motion.

The journey to the Guardians of Earth HQ was, surprisingly, comfortable. To avoid drawing attention, the agency responsible for housing Solace had decided that a nondescript black sedan was the safest way to transport a potentially catastrophic alien organism. Solace, of course, did not complain. Even filtered through pitch‑black tinted windows, this was the most of the outside world they had ever been permitted to witness. Shapes of buildings, the blur of trees, the faint glow of daylight—muted, distorted, but intoxicating all the same.

Their arrival at HQ carried a strange ceremonial weight. Solace was ushered through immaculate corridors, guided with precision toward their destination. To an outside observer, it might have looked like a VIP being escorted by an elite security detail—an entourage of protectors shielding a dignitary from unseen threats. The truth, of course, was the inverse. If Solace had harboured even a flicker of desire for destruction, these agents could not have slowed them, let alone stopped them. Their presence was symbolic at best, performative at worst.

At last came the moment of entry.

The double wooden doors of the boardroom swung open, and Solace stepped inside with a fluid grace that made several of the seated veterans stiffen. Agent Baker followed, posture rigid, eyes scanning the room as though handing off a live explosive.

Solace paused only long enough to receive Baker’s curt nod—permission to sit—before gliding into a chair with careful, deliberate poise. Baker, in turn, gave the assembled leaders a look that said, without a single word, They’re your problem now.

Solace beamed at him, lifting a hand in a cheerful little wave as the Agent retreated and the doors shut behind him. Then they turned back to the table, smile still perfectly, serenely fixed in place.

And they waited. Silent, but patient.