As Marin Caze waited near the front desk, fidgeting slightly, he glanced at the receptionist, a lanky young man scribbling something in a notepad. Wanting to break the awkward silence, Marin spoke up.
"Hey... what's your name?"
The receptionist looked up with a mild smile, brushing back his disheveled brown hair. "Me? I'm Caleb Flynn. Intern here. Learning the ropes as a receptionist. And you are...?"
"Marin. Marin Caze," he replied, trying not to sound too stiff.
"Nice to meet you, Marin. So... what brings you here to the mighty Enforcer HQ?"
"Well," Marin said, shifting slightly, "I was told I have plot armour. Nathan Cole brought me in himself. Said I'd be a good fit as an Enforcer."
Caleb blinked, impressed. "Nathan brought you in? That's no small thing. He's practically a legend around here. Second only to the Author himself."
Marin looked puzzled. "Really? He didn't seem all that grand to me. Just... intense."
Caleb chuckled. "Oh, he's intense all right. But also kind. Doesn't walk around like he owns the place, unlike some others."
"Others?" Marin raised an eyebrow.
Caleb's tone shifted slightly, becoming cautious. "Yeah... you see, not everyone around here is as noble as they should be. There's a group of Plot Armour Supremacists. They think that having plot armour makes them superior. That those without it... people like me... are expendable."
Marin's eyes widened. "What? That's insane. Isn't the whole point of being an Enforcer to protect common people? The Author told me that protecting civilians is rule number one."
"He wasn't lying," Caleb said quickly. "That is the rule. But not everyone follows it wholeheartedly. Some are here for power, fame, and the thrill—not the responsibility."
Marin looked down, digesting that. "But... they still do their jobs, right?"
Caleb nodded. "Because of the Author. He's... always watching. He knows more than anyone lets on. Slack off, cross the line—and poof. You are Fired. He's like the god of this place, though some whisper he's not omnipotent."
Marin laughed nervously. "So... no slacking, huh?"
"Nope," Caleb grinned. "Better keep that plot armour polished."
Just then, a stunning woman approached the desk, her golden blonde hair bouncing as she walked. She wore a snug uniform that made Marin suddenly very aware of how average he looked.
Without even glancing at Caleb, she addressed Marin. "You. Marin Caze?"
He straightened up. "Yes. That's me."
"Great. Follow me. I've been asked by the Author himself to give you a tour."
She didn't wait for a response, already walking ahead. Marin gave Caleb a sheepish wave. "See you around, I guess."
"All the best," Caleb called, barely hiding his smirk. As Marin left with the girl , the boy prayed for his safety.
As Marin caught up with the woman, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I'm Elira Solen. And no, before you ask, I'm not thrilled to be doing this."
"I wasn't going to ask that... but noted," Marin replied awkwardly.
"Good. Let's make this quick."
They walked through a hallway filled with glass windows revealing high-tech labs, sparring rooms, and busy enforcers moving briskly in all directions.
"You've been briefed enough," Elira said with a sigh. "You'll get more out of actual experience. So, I arranged for you to join a live mission. You'll be going with Orien Valcoran. He'll give you the basics."
Marin blinked. "Wait. Already? I just got here."
"Exactly. Better to get thrown into the fire early. If your plot armour's worth anything, you'll survive."
She didn't slow her pace, leading Marin down to a vast underground hangar buzzing with the noise of engines and chatter.
"There's your ride," she said pointing at the plane. She continued , "Orien is waiting inside and he will give you the remaining details of the mission."
Marin turned to say something more, but she was already striding away.
Taking a deep breath, he climbed into the aircraft.
Inside, a rugged man in his early thirties looked up from buckling his vest. He had a five-o'clock shadow and eyes that looked like they'd seen too much.
"You must be the newbie," the man said, extending a hand. "Orien Valcoran."
Marin shook it. "Marin Caze , but I haven't joined yet , I am technically still on the tour of the HQ but let's say it is part of the tour. Uh... your name sounds familiar. Have we met before?"
Orien chuckled. "Nah we haven't met before. But you've probably heard about me. I pop up in the news every couple of weeks—justice served, lives saved, you see I don't want to brag but I like to deliver justice to the victims , you know the drill."
Marin nodded slowly. "Yeah. That's probably it."
"Relax," Orien said, checking his gear. "This isn't mission impossible. Just... a little inconvenient and difficult . But we'll manage somehow."
The plane rose higher and higher until the clouds were beneath them.
Orien gestured toward the hatch. "Alright our mission is in a remote area , there is no landing strip. That means only one thing."
Marin's stomach dropped. "We're jumping? From this height? Are you insane?!"and internally prayed to the gods save me please .
Orien winked. "You'll be fine."
"Wait wait wait—at least tell me we're using parachutes, right? RIGHT?!"
The pilot opened the side hatch. Wind howled through the cabin.
Marin backed away. "This is insane! There are rules! Human rights!"
Orien grabbed him by the arm. "No time for lectures. Trust me."
"WAIT—!"
And with a wide grin, Orien threw Marin out of the plane. Marin screamed as the wind swallowed his voice.
Orien followed with a calm, practiced dive.