“Homeland security wants to talk to you.”

As you will no doubt find, I have many pet peeves. One of which is appearance. Especially in my place of occupation. I have human resources send out a notice every third Thursday informing my employees of my meticulously crafted dress code. I enjoy jeans and a t-shirt as much as the next fellow, but I try to cultivate a professional culture in my offices. If things appear professional, people tend to act in a professional manner.

The demon, regardless of its startling appearance, irked me in that it wore a tie-dye t-shirt and jeans frayed just below the knee. The red, orange and blue shirt clashed horribly with the demon’s pale, near-white skin. It regarded me with over-large solid blue eyes and gave me what was, approximately, a smile. I returned the  expression. “Charles, I must stress the importance that you arrive as all my other appointments do.”

Charles shrugged with bony shoulders. While his head was about that of a human’s its limbs were longer, slimmer. “They said it was important.”

Charles, of course, is not his real name. His true name is unpronounceable by human inflection. Charles’ native language utilized echo and two sets of vocal chords. Charles was the best approximation that we could achieve. “Then why didn’t they call me?”

Again, Charles shrugged. “Dunno, they don’t tell me very much.”

“That is because you have no concept of secrecy or tact,” I explained. Which is true. It took three months for us to impart the concept that clothing was not an option, but necessary. “Do you at least know what they want?”

“No, but they seemed fearful. I think you should hurry,” Charles said.

I reached over and pressed a button on my phone – It had far too many buttons – and called Charlene. “Please cancel my appointments for the remainder of the day. I have to deal with an urgent matter.”

“Yes, Mr. Valentine.”

Homeland Security. I understand it’s purpose but I do wish it was a little more organized. I pay taxes as well, a goodly amount, and I like to know that my funds are being utilized properly. Properly is not the ridiculous tower that the government commissioned just outside of Washington D.C. to house the umbrella organization of the Department of Homeland Security. Unfortunately, whomever they hired to design the interior of Victory Tower – and that name also leaves much to be desired – did not have the sense of mind and taste to distance themselves from the old, fifties sensibility of decoration.

Still, though, the place was and still is impressive. Charles, of course, did not accompany me, he does not enjoy our methods of transportation. After clearing security I waited in the lobby for several minutes before someone met me. ‘A hurry’ indeed.

The woman who met me was someone I recognized only vaguely. She offered her hand as I stood and I shook it, trying to figure out just who she was. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, it came to me. “Officer Williams! How pleasant to see you again. I do hope you were able to sort out the details in your report on those Deva-bats.” Michelle Williams, clad in the female equivalent of the Fed Look, offered me only a slight smile. Her eyes, though, tightened. She had been frightened, but determined during that ordeal in the Catskills. To see that she was here, obviously promoted and not insane, gave me heart.

At least they knew how to pick them.

“Yes, Mr. Devon, Johnny Devon,” Williams replied easily. Her words gave me pause.

“Outstanding,” I said finally, “You remembered my false name.”

Williams smiled again gesturing towards the bank of elevators. As we walked across the large marble floored hall, she glanced at me. “I remembered you when I was handed this assignment. I’m now Director of the Office of Special Investigations.”

“Special, meaning internal affairs?” I asked.

Williams fixed me with an even look, I’d forgotten how beautiful her eyes were, but she waited until the elevators doors were closed. The car did not move. “Special meaning magical or supernatural. Anything extra-dimensional. The President decided it was time that the agencies worked together rather than separately.” She leaned over and touched the badge around her neck to a sensor, then pressed a button.

“And you thought of me, why?” I asked. Well, of course they’d call me. Who else would they have called? But I wanted her answer.

“You were seventh on our list. The others are either dead or we determined to be frauds.”

“Seventh?” I am a prideful man, Hageson. To be cast as seventh amongst those individuals the government would call upon for aid truly wounded me. I was on the cover of Time even before The Event. “Why did you find yourselves needing to go down a list?”

“We need someone of your apparent ability to aid us,” she explained. The elevator moved downward, which surprised me. The tower was over fifty stories tall, surely plenty of space for whatever it was they needed to do. Williams turned away from the door and set her hands to her sides. “This will be uncomfortable.”

The lights in the elevator flickered a bit, then they became hot. The sort of hot you get when you stand under studio lights in front of a camera. Then the elevator stopped. The red numbers read fifty-five. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Well, that’s what I intended to say. Instead I froze as the elevator walls began to simmer and sizzle with heat.

I’d been cooked once. A great many years ago in Greece and I was not keen to have it done to me again. I was preparing to remove myself and Williams from the elevator when the sizzling abruptly stopped. “What was that?”

“Scanner. It’s to detect extra-dimensional beings to prevent them from entering the offices,” she explained easily as the back wall of the elevator slide open to reveal a, disappointingly, fifties decorated lobby area.

“I’d expected something more…”

“Yes, we all had the same reaction, but this place has been here for a little over seventy years and we don’t have the budget to hire someone to make it look imposing. There’s no point – here,” she gestured for me to sign in at the unmanned front desk.

“This is truly disappointing, Williams.”

“What’s more disappointing is that we only have four offices down here.”

“Four? What are the others for?”

“Black ops, CIA, covert things. Obviously you won’t be able to access those areas.”

“Why am I even able to access this at all?” I asked. I noted that there weren’t very many people around in the hallways. I heard none of the usual bustle and conversation that other similarly organized offices possessed. From the open floorplan and low cubicle walls I saw that there were others in the office and even some on phones, but I could hear none of their voices.

“Like I said, we need your help.” she led me to a group of flimsily built cubicle offices, the sort with wooden paneling walling that rose a foot short of the actual ceiling. Williams pushed open a door to reveal a riot of papers and files and office equipment. In the midst of it a young man spoke on a telephone. By his expression he was not pleased. He ignored us as we entered.

The office was larger on the inside than it was on the out, but only barely. I sensed the discrepency with many of the empty cubicles we passed, but I wondered at why the difference was so small. If they had the ability to do so, why only a few inches? Why not turn every cubicle into a palace for all the effort it would have taken. Michelle and I waited in the door for the man to finish, which he did moments later by slamming the receiver several times into its cradle.

“This is Lorenzo Green, he’s the field ordinator. Lorenzo, this is Elijah Valentine the-”

“Contractor, yeah,” Lorenzo said. His voice was far lower than I expected it to be. He held out his hand over a stack of brown folders and I shook it. Lorenzo was the sort where you weren’t too sure if he was genius or insane. Many people talk about walking that fine line between genius and insanity and, I must admit, I’ve toed it a few times, but this man perhaps straddled it. His green eyes barely focused on me, instead the were fixed on a point past me and even the wall behind.

“He uses that term loosely,” Williams replied, leading me out of the cramped, but too large, office. “Consultant is probably a better explaination.”

“Contractor, consultant, it doesn’t matter. I would be delighted to meet the rest of your team,” I stopped her just as we approached the next office. “What do you need my help for? And why are you showing me all of this? Don’t you need clearance and the like?”

Williams fixed me with a solid, even gaze. “You wrote a letter a long time ago to the President pledging your help whenever this country needed it. Whenever this world needed it. Have you since changed your mind?”

I blinked and shook my head slowly. “Michelle, George Washington never got back to me on the matter.”

She was good. They really did know how to pick them.