Matt needed a job, but he had very little luck. Every lead fizzled, every contact forgot to call back, every opportunity slid between his fingers. It wasn't surprising; his very existence seemed to blur. People met him and five minutes later couldn't remember his face. He lived in the cracks of the world.
He was sitting in their small apartment, staring at the ceiling, when Neo came in looking upset. His steps were fast, uneven, his hands restless at his sides.
"Woah, what happened bro?" Matt asked, straightening.
Neo sank onto the couch, running a hand down his face. "Kai… he's doing a mission, and he's doing it alone. I don't know. I'm just worried."
Matt tilted his head. "We don't know enough about him. Why care?"
"I don't know," Neo said, voice rough. "He's just— I don't know."
The silence stretched. They sat together, the weight of worry and uncertainty filling the room. Matt finally muttered, "Don't worry about it. He'll be fine. He's got Velnix."
But Matt didn't believe his own words. If Kai could disappear into missions, if Neo could vanish into his worries, maybe Matt could vanish into something else. Maybe it was time to test the limits of being forgettable.
---
Zone Alpha's Black Omen Headquarters rose like a black blade into the sky, taller than most towers in the sector. Its windows were tinted so dark they seemed to drink the daylight, swallowing every reflection. To most, the building was a fortress—armored glass, steel supports, dozens of guards patrolling the ground floor. To Matt, it looked like opportunity.
He lit a cigarette on the curb finished it and walked straight to the revolving doors.
The guards at the checkpoint were sharp-eyed men in black armor, rifles slung across their chests. A scanner arched overhead, red light sweeping each body that entered. Matt didn't slow. The scanner flickered as he passed beneath it, the light dimming as though it had lost interest. One guard frowned at him, lips parting to ask a question—but by the time Matt reached the elevator, the man had forgotten why.
That was his Burden. Forgettable. Both curse and key.
The elevator carried him upward, silent except for the faint hum of machinery. He pressed no buttons, simply waited until the doors opened on a random floor—twenty-seven. A swarm of operatives moved through the corridor, shuffling paperwork, laughing too loudly, arguing into headsets. Matt slid out of the crowd and walked as if he belonged.
The offices were glass and steel, sharp edges and flickering screens. He turned left, then right, until he found it—an office with a thin film of dust across the desk, the smell of stale coffee still lingering in the air. Forgotten. Empty.
Matt shut the door softly behind him. The blinds rattled when he pulled them down, shutting out the view of the city. The desk drawers were filled with paperwork—requisitions, mission updates, supply forms. He smoothed them out on the desk and sat down.
The pen felt natural in his hand. He began to write. Neat script, controlled, the kind of handwriting that carried authority without trying. He filled out mission transfer requests, requisitions for ammunition, small updates that didn't matter but looked official. The hum of the building pressed around him, but in this little room, he had found a strange sort of silence.
The door creaked. Matt didn't look up.
"Who are you?"
The voice was sharp, clipped. He glanced up slowly. An officer stood in the doorway, sharp-jawed, his uniform neat to the point of cruelty. His eyes flicked over Matt with suspicion.
Matt smiled faintly, as if bored. "Oh, I transferred from another squad. I've been here for years."
The officer frowned. "I've never seen you before."
Matt set down his pen. His tone was flat, simple. "My Burden makes it so you don't."
There was a pause. The officer's gaze softened, confusion melting into acceptance. "I see…" He nodded once, almost to himself, then turned and left.
The memory of the intrusion evaporated from the air.
Matt leaned back in the chair, pen tapping against his knuckles. The Burden that had cursed him on the streets, that made him invisible even to friends, had just opened a door no one else could step through.
-
The fire popped and hissed, its light flickering across Kai's face as he leaned forward. "So you just walked into Black Omen HQ and no one stopped you?" he asked, disbelief rough in his voice.
Matt smirked faintly, poking at the flames. "That's the gift of my Burden. Guards looked past me, scanners blinked and forgot, officers doubted themselves more than me. I found an empty office, sat down, and started filling out paperwork. By the end of the day, I was already buried in reports nobody remembered assigning."
Kai shook his head, letting out a low laugh. "You're telling me you climbed their ladder just by existing in the cracks." Matt's eyes glimmered with the firelight, his voice quiet but steady. "Not by existing, Kai. By being forgotten. It makes me nothing to them… which means I can be anything."
"But there's more!" Matt adds.
He began talking about early days in black omen and his squad in the lawless city.