The slightly scuffed digital clock on the nightstand clicked to 8:00 a.m., the glowing red digits casting a bright light across the pitch black room.
The first thing I noticed was the cold. Not the kind of chill that makes you shiver, but the sterile, airless quiet that seeps in when you wake up in a room too big for one person. My apartment had never felt particularly warm, not with the dull gray walls and dust-caked light fixtures, but this morning felt.
I don't know.
I yawned, stretching until my oversized sleep shirt slid halfway up my thighs. One of those cheap souvenir shirts with "Drink 'til You Sin" scrawled across the front in neon pink. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and planted my hooves on the cool floorboards.
For a moment, I sat still, elbows on knees, head hanging. Then the memory of the previous night slinked into my brain like a smoke trail.
Verosika.
Last night.
The car ride back from that "party" was, lets say awkward. During a fe segments of the ride I just kept glancing her way, pretending not to be sweating buckets from my skin. Every time I did She looked like she'd snap if I so much as cleared my throat wrong. That demoness had more cracks than a broken vanity mirror. She was tired. Tired in that quiet, simmering way that made my skin crawl. She'd barely said anything to me the whole ride, just stared forward out the window like she was watching someone else's life pass her by.
seconds from either biting my head off. Or throwing me out of the car. I couldn't tell which would've been worse.
"Ugh, no time for this."
I shook the thoughts loose and shoved myself onto my bare feet, rolling both shoulders before stomping across the room to get dressed. Today wasn't for brooding. It was for schemes.
The I.M.P. van screeched into its usual half-illegal parking space out front. I shut the door with a spin, tossing my keys into the air and catching them behind my back as I sauntered toward the building. Inside, the smell was once again different, burnt coffee and old printer ink smacked my face when I opened the door Still brewing with confidence.
The office was in full buzz. Loona was glaring at her screen like it had insulted her mother, which, someone probably did. The new intern beside her was shuffling papers too nervously to be his most productive. And Moxxie was hunched over the copier, swispering about something related to quality.
"Heyyy Moxxie!" I yelled, voice cutting across the entrance. "Storage closet. Come on. Got a little project to polish."
Without waiting for a response, I made my way to the door near the back side of the office and yanked it open. Inside, resting on a dolly like a lifeless corpse was the semi- "functional" combat robot from last week's glorious failure. Its head hung crooked, wires spilled from the joint of firel, but it was still working.
barely.
Moxxie arrived a moment later, frowning.
"It's still moving," he observed flatly.
"Creepy, right? I love it," I beamed, crouching beside the hunk of metal and patting its scorched shoulder like a proud dad. "Anyway, here's the plan: we send this scrapheap to Earth. Hand it off to some third-rate tech company with dreams of becoming first-rate. Let 'em tinker. Upgrade it. Make it not explode. And then—" he stood up, finger raised, "we steal it back."
Moxxie tilted his head and blinked in slight shock "We're… going to Earth for this?"
"Yep!"
"To hand off a literal demon-powered weapon to humans?"
"Correct!"
"Isn't there a slight chance that if they reverse-engineer it, they could figure out it was from us, and I dont know potentially take over a city?"
"Ehh," I shrugged. "If they're smart enough to pull that off, they deserve it."
Moxxie opened his mouth again, but I was already in my office. Stepping few seconds later emerged with a suitcase in one hand and the Grimoire in the other.
"Now," I grinned, "all we gotta do is find one greedy little meatbag with a god complex and no moral compass. Shouldn't be hard, Earth's full of 'em."
Moxxie raised a finger in protest
—and I, naturally, with the robot in tow, was already halfway through the portal.
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Earth –
Vectora Systems Inc. – 10:43 a.m.
"You bastards better be working!" roared a voice like a blender full of gravel.
The employees of Vectora Systems froze in place. Cubicles full of half-functional computers and sad, grey office chairs became tombstones for dreams long since buried. The boss, Rodrick Dimeson, CEO, tyrant, and collector of unpaid parking tickets—stormed through the office with the grace of a man who never learned empathy.
"Last week's prototype flopped harder than your mother's pancakes!" he barked. "We've lost another investor. Do any of you clowns know how to innovate, or do I need to outsource the brainpower again?"
No one responded. Not because they didn't want to, but because no one had the energy. The fluorescent white lights buzzed overhead, drowning the room in a pale, depressing glow. The once-ambitious developer Darren sunk deeper into his chair. His stocks had tanked, his crypto was worthless, and his salary had been halved three times this year. He glanced at the sticky note taped to his monitor:
"Make it worth it."
A hollow laugh almost escaped him.
If only something, anything. could change I could finally make something of this worthless career.
Then came the clang.
Everyone turned toward the hallway Rodrick had just disappeared down.
Another clang. Then a dragging noise. Then the boss re-emerged with a mad grin.
Behind him, something massive scraped along the floor under a white cloth. The fabric stretched oddly at sharp angles, like it barely contained whatever was underneath.
Rodrick cleared his throat, tugging the cloth halfway off to reveal a full blown robot! it's metal arm charred, and still twitching.
"Well, well," he chuckled darkly. "Ladies and gents… innovation has arrived."
The employees stared in confusion and awe as the cloth slipped a little further, revealing what looked like the upper half of a combat android straight out of a sci-fi wet dream.
Darren leaned forward slowly.
"What is that?"
Rodrick winked. "A gift. From a client who doesn't exist."
--------------
Moxxie adjusted his human disguise, a nerdy tech consultant outfit complete with crooked tie and large glasses, before we both high fived at our rousing success, I was dressed like a discount Steve Jobs in a turtleneck and blazer.
I grinned. "Told you it'd be easy. desperate people, they'll bite at anything that glows."
"I have to admit sir, you were right, at tleast in how easy id be."
Behind them, several hidden I.M.P cameras blinked to life, recording every angle of the office they'd just slipped in, including the robot.
"Now," dusting my hands, "we sit back, let 'em fix it, and pick it up once it's shiny and dangerous."
Moxxie glanced back at the portal. "You think they'll actually manage it? And is it really viable since we need to keep the portal open for the cameras to work?"
"Oh, Mox, Just watch." I chuckled as I walked through along side Moxxie.
Now standing on the other side I closed the portal slightly into a single spec, "they have to. Otherwise, we're really gonna have to start recruiting some spies for such an easy job."
We watched the small hole wir with power the grimoir in my hands still slightly glowing, "Alright lets get back to business, we've got bodies to deliver."