Series Placement: The following Shard sequences take place at various points after Supplement IV.
"Love you too, Momma. Say hi to the Martins for me please? Thank you. We'll chat tomorrow, same time."
The phone fell silent a second later. The rustling of controllers preceded the game's soundtrack. Tyler sighed, but smiled. "Alright. Let's do this."
"…Isn't it tough lying to your mom like that?"
"…What kinda question is that? Of course it is, man." Tyler didn't mean for the response to have that little kick, but it did. He knew Kintoki wouldn't take it personally, being such a strong friend. The employee felt bad, sure, but the ache over all this secrecy was worse. It never got easy.
Sometimes he wished he had the mages' circumstances. Their families could know a bit more because every breath was always bathed in secrecy. His lonely mom? As far as she was concerned, he was a civilian contractor on a classified military installation. Of course, that wasn't enough to halt all the screaming for not calling her for that entire trying ordeal, but it's not like he had a choice. He had to lie.
Too many of them had to, and that was easily one of the hardest part of living here.
·△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△·
Shard 47: That's Classified
·△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△·
Da Vinci's workshop was awfully quiet. On the holoscreen, a blue-tinted Pritchard looked over the many files Da Vinci had sent over. The original copies rested on her desk before her, with her hands folded on top. Like the Vigil Commander, her smile was long absent. The minutes had passed as he slowly, methodically checked the files one page at a time. Behind him, the Vigil's Edison stood like a bodyguard. Behind her, David clutched his clipboard.
"…Too many indeed. You have my condolences," Pritchard finally aired as he gently put the papers down. "We'll get right to work on the cover stories preceding their deaths. Rest assured, we'll handle everything."
Her eyes remained stiff. "Will you be contacting the Mage's Association for assistance?"
"They originally handled any 'accidents' in Chaldea, so we may be forced to. When the current climate turns fair," Pritchard explained; The Clock Tower wasn't exactly fond of what transpired only a few days ago. "Time is of the essence, however. The families and press will want something, but if there's any welcome news about all this chaos, it's the ease of blending this into the background."
"Conspiracy theories are bound to erupt. You can't cover everything perfectly," Da Vinci offered as a friendly warning.
Thomas frowned, but Pritchard didn't blink. "We're well aware. But unless the Mage's Association is willing to let some of their mysteries get into the public eye, I'm sure they'll do something on their end, mutual cooperation be damned. I only hope they don't try and pin it on the UN to do so."
The two leaders shared a brief, equal, and incredulous stare: Of course they'd try. But that was something the Vigil would have to deal with. Pritchard folded his hands and mulled, "For now, we'll reveal only that there were deaths, and let the classified nature of our military force buy some time. It won't please the families, but until we have the holes filled, it should be a more understandable excuse."
"I wish you good luck then. Your secrecy and integrity will be tried in the coming months. We don't envy your current position."
Pritchard smiled tiredly. "Director Da Vinci. It's safe to say we're adept at dealing with all the skeletons in our closet."
Maybe she was exhausted too, but something about that reassurance didn't sit well with her.
·△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△·
"So pun guy. You're pun guy right?"
The young man looked up at his table at Club Cove. "The pun and only."
With a click of a button, his phone hid away one of his childhood idols of pun comedy: phreak. At the table across the aisle, two of the newer employees sat together. He didn't really get to know them much after first greeting, but by his estimates, Ralph and Meuniere were alright folk. They were adapting really well by the looks of it.
"You were here during the whole Grand Order ordeal, right?" Meuniere prodded curiously.
Holding back his playful instincts, he nodded. "Yea. A year before everything went to hell too."
"...So what's your cover story?" the other employee asked. "Meuniere here is with a new top secret cybersecurity force with the UN. I'm off the grid putting my woodworking skills to use. What about you?"
It's not a conversation that came up very often; Once was enough. The diversity of given excuses had only grown since Chaldea's reemergence, it seemed. By comparison to some others, his was rather… plain? "I'm an executive financial assistant for a high-level security firm."
They blinked. They mouthed in unison. "…Huh?"
"Find it odd?" he chuckled. "I do more than just financial stuff in Chaldea, yea, but that's the pin of my cover story. Executive assistants are often dealing with confidential, private, and always high-risk information for their bosses. It doesn't matter so much for the Chaldea Director for... yea, obvious reasons, but with a security firm, I could be a big target for some sketchy rivals. Hence the secrecy becomes very, very important."
"Did they give you your cover story?"
"Just like they did for you, I assume, hm?" Pun guy questioned back. They nodded, and he nodded too. "It's not elaborate, but sometimes it's better that away. I don't have a great social media presence, so that helped too. Either of you?"
They shook their heads. That was a big road bump on the clearance checks as he understood it: Your social media footprint mattered a lot. Despite Geis, signed contracts, and more, the less complications and popularity one had, the better. Few had Anton's level of ease though: Most thought he was dead.
For the rest, balance and other measures were simply a fact of life. "And so here we are, doing our jobs. Two for me! When I'm not punning, I provide the funding. Can't say I'll ever hate this job!"
"So what did you do before that made you come here instead?" Meuniere questioned. Ralph looked on.
"Oh that. It's a little embarrassing," the veteran employee chuckled. "I got fired from my job at a Calendar factory."
Ralph blinked. "…Calendar factory?"
"Yea. All I did was take a day off." There was nothing better to the veteran than watching the agony surge across their faces as realization dawned on them. "Come now… You didn't think I wouldn't let one fly?"
·△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△·
"A thorough background check?"
"Yes, Miss Luthersdottir. It's a necessary step of our application process."
The blonde should've known that the unbelievable salary had a few catches. The first warning should've been the rather unassuming, out-of-the-way building she'd had to drive to. Sure there were other applicants in the waiting room, but the lack of windows the deeper into the facility she walked was more and more… unsettling. The number of suit-wearing officials rubbed her the wrong way. The UN soldiers moreso; What had the UN ever done right until a month ago?
No. No she shouldn't be having these trains of thought. Not while there were wires taped to her head in this dim room. This was more of an interrogation than a career intervie- "Your heartbeat is turning erratic. Don't worry, everyone gets nervous."
The suit and his stoic tone didn't help matters at all. She sat in the plush chair, as calm as she could. She needed a job desperately. Her parents threw her out for not holding a single one long enough. The pay from this one… wow, if it was true, her whole family would turn their heads in apology. Her cocky older brother too. That'd show them.
Even all the trying restrictions could be looked past. Working overseas for long stretches of time. Few vacations. High risk factors. They were a few of the most unusual requirements she'd seen for a tailoring job, but that had to explain the high pay right? High six digits a year…
The light on the computer blinked red, and the suited-man stared to her blankly across the small room. "Miss Luthersdottir. Is there something you'd like to tell us about your civility during recent anti-government protests?"
And her chance at all that money just went up in smoke.
·△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△·
Facebook Messenger
Layla Griffiths
So
Do you really work for the Vigil?
The super police?
Kay Shaw
Another UN department
But they work closely with the task force so I have to keep everything really secret
Layla Griffiths
But you can tell your best friend
Right? (Face with Tears of Joy emoji)
I won't tell a soul
Kay Shaw
It'll cost me my job…
I can't…
Sorry :(
Layla Griffiths
Kay
It's been weeks
We're best friends
You can tell me I swear
Kay Shaw
On Facebook messenger?
You know they're monitoring almost everything I do right?
Layla Griffiths
I mean like in person
But you're right
Guess I said too much here didn't I? (Face with Tears of Joy emoji)
Ignore anything you read CIA!
Let my bestie keep her job please!
Kay Shaw
I don't think CIA would be the ones to check on me… (Face with Tears of Joy emoji)
Layla Griffiths
True…
But can you at least tell me one thing?
Nothing super secret
So do the super police really need a metal worker?
I thought robots do all their work
Is my bestie secretly 007?
Kay Shaw
I wish lol
But no
They need a human hand with some projects
You can say it's a strange workforce here
Like my boss is a crazy strong woman
Really dense at times
Reminds me of you lol
Layla Griffiths
When you come back to visit I'm slapping you
Four times if your lucky
Oh and bring a souvenir or something?
I got a stack of gifts with your name on them
·△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△·
The gentle coos of the baby filled Elsa's office. "When's your first vacation?"
"…Late January." The therapist looked up after finally organizing the client's files. Her smile was heavily-laden, making Raikou's once-pleasant cheer turn solemn. "It's part of the job. I knew the long stretches signing up, but uncle was insistent. He said it'd be just what I needed."
"Do you regret coming here?"
"What? No. Of course not. This is…" Elsa smiled back as she expressed herself. "(Dear me)… I can't even express this blessing from God. Thank you, lord."
The weight remained, and it tugged at the mother's eyes as she glanced to her child in Raikou's arms. "It's just… It is going to be the first Christmas without family. Aunt Borelli's cooking. My neighbors. Without…"
Elsa wasn't sure who it was worse for in the end. Her, who lost her husband and the certain livelihood she had before. Or her loving family, who had to be kept in the dark after losing a blessed family man, and now her too. She could still send a few screened photos and information, but she felt it wasn't enough. Meanwhile they send her so many pictures and letters, reminding her of what she had in arm's reach in Italy… and...and…
Raikou had rushed over and around the desk to quickly kneel before the mother. She offered Giovanni back, and Elsa sadly took him as she reminisced. As soon as she did, Raikou mustered her into a warm hug. "…I'm sorry. We can't bring him back to you, but we're here for you. All your friends. Your uncle too."
"I'm not alone… I know…" Elsa sniffled as Giovanni squirmed in his mother's hold. "There's just… a lot for me to get used to still. Thank you for your help."
"It's not easy, what you gave up to be here. We'll make sure you'll never regret it," Raikou smiled warmly as she held her hug tight.
"(…Thank you.)"