The sound of rotor blades thundered above them, drowning out everything except the rising sense of "what the hell is happening."
"Okay okay okay—where the hell are we even going?!"
Rouxie was gripping the seatbelt like it was a lifeline.
Vargara sat stiffly beside her, peering through the tinted window. "I'm not saying we're being kidnapped, but if this turns into a sci-fi horror movie, I just want to be the one who doesn't scream."
Across from them, totally relaxed, sat Xavier Deals—Agent Zombie himself—arms crossed, one leg up, casually flicking through glowing holograms floating off his wristband.
"You girls panic too much," he muttered without looking up. "This is standard post-event protocol."
"Standard?!" Rouxie yelled. "You dragged us into a black helicopter with zero explanation!"
"I was mid-snack," Vargara grumbled. "Now I'm mid-flight."
Xavier sighed, then finally looked at them. "Alright, alright. You're not prisoners. You're guests. We're heading to Founders Inc. headquarters."
"That's supposed to make us feel better?" Rouxie frowned. "That sounds like a shady startup run by billionaires with laser eyes."
"...Kinda accurate," Xavier muttered.
And then, the clouds thinned.
That's when they saw it.
---
Beneath the surface of Earth, far below the mountains and forests people know as "Yellowstone"—there lies a secret. A base built over a volcanic superstructure. Not ancient ruins. Not military tunnels. Something else entirely.
They call it the Pyrehold—a geothermal-powered megastructure designed to contain unnatural energy, study psychic outbursts, and train the people who can survive both. Founded decades ago by geniuses too strange for the surface world, it runs beneath one of the most dangerous places on Earth. Officially, it doesn't exist.
Unofficially? It's the only thing standing between civilization and psychic annihilation.
---
The helicopter slowly descended toward a glowing landing platform surrounded by mechanical pillars venting steam. Circular runways spun into place. Lava-powered turbines hummed under the floor. Everything looked… alive.
Vargara blinked. "Okay. I take it back. This is awesome and horrifying."
Rouxie just stared. "It's like a volcano and a spaceship had a baby."
Xavier stood up as the doors hissed open. "Welcome to hell's air conditioner."
---
Inside the facility, the girls were bracing for darkness. Something creepy. Cold metal and flickering lights. But what they got was…
A guy flying across the hallway in a burst of pink smoke, screaming, "YOU CHEATED, YOU GLOWY-EYED FREAK!"
A second voice shouted back, "TRAIN HARDER, JELLYBEAN!"
Vargara squinted. "Did… did someone just get suplexed onto a vending machine?"
"I think they're training?" Rouxie said. "Or... LARPing?"
The place was filled with chaos, but not scary chaos. More like mild workplace insanity. Agents sparred with glowing gloves, interns sprinted with coffee trays, someone was dragging a psychic jellyfish in a tank across the floor.
Suddenly—
CLAP.
One, loud, thunderous clap echoed through the corridor.
Everything froze.
Agents halted mid-spar. A floating clipboard dropped to the floor. Someone halfway through a backflip landed awkwardly and immediately pretended they were stretching.
A shadow loomed at the end of the hallway.
There he stood—tall, broad-shouldered, and silent.
Six-foot-seven. A thick black combat coat draped over fireproof armor. His arms were crossed, jaw set sharp, a faint scar trailing down from his right temple to his cheek. He didn't look like some ancient war veteran.
He looked thirty. At most.
And yet the whole floor held its breath like he was a legend written in blood.
"Ladies," Xavier said, sounding more serious now, "meet Pentagon—Captain of Squad 5. He handles combat ops and emergency power lockdowns. Basically, if everything's on fire, he's already five steps ahead."
---
The narrator's tone shifts, like reading from a restricted file.
Real name: Classified.
Code name: Pentagon.
Current status: Captain of Squad 5, Founders Inc.
Specialty: Combat leadership, energy redirection, emergency system override.
Rumor: Has never lost a physical fight. Has never started one either—because his stare does most of the work.
---
Vargara narrowed her eyes, stepping slightly forward.
That face… that hairline… those shoulders.
"…Wait."
Pentagon tilted his head. "...Vargara?"
Rouxie turned to her. "Wait, wait—what did he just say?"
"...Grandpa?" Vargara muttered.
---
The hallway went so quiet, even the psychic jellyfish paused mid-float.
"…What the actual hell?" Rouxie whispered.
To be continued...