The henchmen motto was around for decades and it was so simple even school children knew how to recite it by heart: "There’s no hero without a villain and there’s no villain without good henchmen.” What children didn’t understand was that the expression wasn’t being literal. Villains weren’t required by law to have henchmen and they were rarely ever good; both in a moral sense and an efficiency sense.

If one considered joining the supervillain industry, they would also have to prepare themselves to be hounded by the entirety of the world. Their opposition would include local authorities, the military, international secret agents, and of course: superheroes. On the other end of the proverbial spectrum, there were vigilantes working for themselves, mercenaries for hire, and rival supervillains who worked to take out the competition. Villainous masterminds and evil geniuses alike could not care less if a measly henchman died from a backstabbing co-worker or if they fell into a killer shark tank on accident. Not to mention civilians didn’t find henchmen, who frequently ruined their days, pleasant either; especially the grannies who were watching late-night news.

It was always the case that being a henchman was perilous yet gratifying, but it could also be quite mundane and thankless. Sam was anticipating for the former to be true, but Maxwell was entirely hoping for the latter.

As the duo oriented themselves and found their footing in front of the newly-outfitted J, they took a better look at their new surroundings. They were indeed underground, or somewhere quite earthy. The upper interior of the area was high and was decorated with wires, metal tubing, and natural stalactites. The walls of the rooms were mostly metal and concrete, built under rocks that stretched to the ceiling.

“So this is your secret base, huh?” Sam said.

“Just a small portion of it, but yes,” J said as she finished drinking the rest of her water and placed the empty glass on a counter near the elevators.

Sam was still astonished as she slowly walked to one of the walls of gray rock. She could feel the cold earthy texture rub on her fingertips as she placed her hand on it. As she knocked on it, she felt no hollowness from within. It was all real and Sam’s excitement began to well up inside. Her sneakers squeaked as she made fast turns on the surprisingly clean floor, creating small echoes caused by the high ceiling and entranceways. From the Reigning Storm banners upon the walls to the plaque that read ‘Dropzone 1’ on the exit, Sam examined and touched every little detail she could find twice over.

Maxwell was similarly awestruck, but before he joined in Sam’s merriment, he patted his body; his pockets mostly. Wallet, check. Car keys, check. So far so good, he thought. He went to feel for his cellphone but remembered that he and Sam had left their phones back at the office. More specifically, J left them behind in a ‘phone receptacle’ as she called it. Maxwell reached into his other pocket to pull out its contents. To his relief, his MP3 player looked fine and was still able to turn on.

His red earphones, however, didn't survive the trip unscathed. Maxwell groaned while he took a better look at them. Parts of the cable were ripped open to reveal the delicate inner wiring. The earbuds themselves looked the most damaged. The plastic housing appeared scratched and had even cracked in a few places. It was so cracked in fact, that both diaphragm casings had popped off. One was missing entirely and the other was left dangling on more wires. Maxwell gently pushed the housing back in.

Still holding on to the MP3 player, Maxwell plugged his earphones in and tried to play a song. It came out very muffled at first, quickly turning into a cacophony of screeching static before falling silent. He tried to raise the volume and even change the song, but the earphones went out in a whimper. Twenty dollars down the drain. Maxwell took one more deep sigh and put everything back into his pockets. With Sam far off in the distance, he approached J first.

“So then, are you giving us a tour as well?” Maxwell asked.

“We’ve been light on staff. So yes, I will,” J said as she put on a headset and picked up a clipboard with papers attached to it from the counter. “Let’s catch up with the punk.”

In the same breath, they caught a blur of Sam as she ran right out of the front entranceway. She quickly grabbed onto the balcony railing that was straight ahead of her and allowed the momentum of the run to push her upper body over the edge. Looking downward, she saw a large abyss with machines glowing scarlet red. She noticed that there were multiple levels below her, interconnected by walkways. Above her was more rock and metal, just like in the room before. Sam compared it to a shopping mall. It was far darker and had fewer people strolling about. It did compare pretty well on the sinister scale of things though.

“Holy shit! This place is huge,” Sam said in a booming voice. Her voice would have traveled further if it hadn’t been for all of the other loud noises subduing it. “So where exactly are we now? Under the city?” she asked J.

“No actually. We are now in the heart of Angeles National Forest," J said as she and Maxwell caught up with Sam. “Also, keep your voices down. It might not look like it, but there are a lot of people hard at work right now.”

“But we were just in downtown LA. How did we get here so fast?” Maxwell said as he poked his head into the conversation.

"You can thank the dangerously high wind speeds in the vacuum tube system hurling you two here," J replied.

Maxwell opened his mouth ever so slightly, only to have his teeth crunch together on thin air.

“Well if that's the case,” said Sam, “how come you were able to change your outfit so fast?”

J turned her back on the two of them and began walking to her right. “Now then, if you two would follow me, I’ll take you to our first major destination.”

The duo turned to each other in puzzlement, but continued to follow. The three of them began walking away from the high ceiling area into a more compact hallway. The entrance had a henchman guard standing tall on both sides. The henchmen’s uniforms were a mix between military gear and the average person’s preconceptions of an extra in a spy movie. Their colors predictably matched the colors J was wearing: they all had ensembles of primarily maroon, magenta, and violet. Their faces were covered by goggles, a military beret, and metal contraptions around their mouths that resembled gas masks. And of course, the Reigning Storm insignia shined brightly on their belt buckles.

Armed with rifles and standing at attention, the two henchmen performed a quick salute as J and the new recruits walked through the double doors. Sam and Maxwell turned to look back at the guards, but the doors closed shut right in their faces. They were initially shocked by the slam, but the quick burst of air from it brought a light fragrance of lemon from down the hallway. After having to bear with the entryway's industrial smells, the duo was happy to receive the new scent.

“That was the main junction that connects all the sections of the base together,” said J. “There’s more that goes on down there, but I won’t bore you on how our sewage system works.”

“Thanks, I guess?” Maxwell said as he looked back at the doors.

“You’re welcome. I know this place is big, but you’ll memorize the layout. It’s kind of a must here.”

J slowed her pace to give them each a brochure. Paper creases and small tears plotted the folded paper like a decrepit map. The colors were slightly faded and the black ink was struggling to stick to the paper.

The very top cover of the pamphlet read: “The Dastardly Fiendish Villain’s Guide on Henchmen.” Accompanying it was a cartoon skeleton in the style of a mid-century cartoon mascot. After they focused more closely on the cover, they noticed a line text at the bottom: "Copyright 1956 - Megalopolis Enterprises."

“So, you guys didn’t make these . . . “Maxwell asked.

“Not exactly. It’s convoluted and not important right now. But you’re correct, those are not our handiwork,” J confirmed. “I dug them up since you both don't seem to have much experience with everything crime-and-villain-related. You’ll get a basic head start if you read those.”

“I’m just surprised that people got away with making these back in the day,” Sam added.

“Yes, the ‘50s were wild. They didn’t take all this hero and villain stuff seriously until it ballooned out of control,” said J.

“But don’t you guys think that these might be a tad bit outdated?” Maxwell asked.

“Apparently, not much has changed since then in terms of general knowledge. Plus, the boss didn’t want to spend extra money on printing new ones,” J replied.

“Speaking of which, when are we gonna meet the big bossman anyways?” Sam asked as she snapped her fingers in realization.

J stopped in her tracks and turned around to face the duo. Her tone returned to being purely monotonous. “Here’s a warning. Do not try to get all buddy-buddy’ with him. He absolutely hates it when new grunts give him nicknames. If you wanna keep your heads secured to your necks, address him by his name, Kaiser Gravitus, or just sir. That’s it.” J turned back around and continued walking. "But to answer your question, probably during tomorrow’s orientation."

Maxwell and Sam understood the severity of the warning and took it to heart. Maxwell even rubbed his neck at the very mention of decapitation. Not knowing how to respond or even break the silence, the pair began to decipher the faded pamphlet as much as they could while walking with J.

Upon flipping to the first page, they were greeted with a warning written in bold letters that read: “DISCLAIMER: WE DO NOT CONDONE ANY MISINFORMATION OR PROPAGANDA WITHIN THIS PAMPHLET. THE DEPICTIONS OF CORRUPTION, CRIMINAL ACTIVITY, AND IMMORAL ACTS ARE PURELY FICTITIOUS. ANY SIMILARITY TO ANY PERSON LIVING OR DEAD IS MERELY COINCIDENTAL.”

The little skeleton appeared all throughout the pamphlet. It talked directly to the readers about the basics of being an evil henchman in brief detail. The first part talked about the basics that Sam and Maxwell knew, such as preparedness and willingness to steal, kill, and do whatever your bosses told you on a whim. The pamphlet soon trailed off to more normal things that regular jobs would have had in their own training manuals. Quick tips on etiquette, efficiency, and even hygiene were given brief references in the form of bulleted lists.

Maxwell slowly read from the start, but Sam unsurprisingly skipped through all the things she knew from prior experience until she flipped over to the middle part. The middle talked about, ‘The growing infrastructure of the supervillain complex.’ The page detailed how much effort and business sense was needed to run an efficient evil empire. Sam was pleasantly surprised by the insight the little pamphlet actually had to offer.

It went down a list of various trade skills and industries that were required for most evil organizations: Mechanical engineering, medical science, weapons development, logistics, transportation, culinary arts, plumbing, and even the fashion industry. It seems the pamphlet was trying to tie the 'fictitious' world of villainy to more practical real-world trades.

The pamphlet took a sharp turn in tone, however, as it talked about serious matters in a lighthearted manner towards the end. The almost tongue in cheek diatribe explained cruel and unusual ways a henchman could please their masters and rank up. It started off with normal, sensible things such as treating your bosses to lunch or giving them a gift for Christmas. Then it went into a long list of expectations only a henchman could accomplish.

“God, look at all of this. Pledging your undying loyalty? Be a willing subject for human experimentation? I’m not keen on any of this,” Maxwell whispered to Sam.

“Well, we sorta did one of these already,” Sam whispered back.

“Which one?”

Sam pointed at Maxwell’s pamphlet. “This, recruiting friends and family,”

“... Recruiting friends and family by force, Sam. And I don’t think I really count,” Maxwell said annoyed. As the two finished flipping through the pamphlet, J stopped in her tracks.

“This is the command center. It’s basically where our operations' brains are,” said J. Maxwell and Sam looked up to see that their light stroll had led them into a circular hallway. “Communications, intelligence gathering, and human resourcing are all done here. One of my offices is here as well,” said J as she pointed at different walled-off sections and doors. The interior of the area was objectively more homey than the previous locals traversed during the tour. In fact, the tiled floors and the checkered wallpaper reminded the duo of the interior of the office they had their interview in not long ago.

Sam put her brochure away in her jacket and looked directly into some of the rooms with glass walls. One of them appeared to be a meeting room, one a regular office building would have, except it was filled with henchmen and supervillains. Maxwell joined her as they watched the people inside start point and yell at each other. The voices were too muffled for the duo to understand, but they could still comprehend the rage in all of their voices.

J ushered the duo along, trying to keep to her mental agenda. Groups of henchmen, dressed in a variety of ways, anywhere between guard-like uniforms to office attire, paid no heed to the duo as they strolled past them. It was strange for Maxwell and Sam to see supposed hardened criminals and killers going about their day so genuinely. Between the stories people would share about villainous henchmen and the pamphlet they had in their hands, the duo felt extremely off-put by the air of normalcy. Every henchman that came within a foot of Max made his arm hair tingle with a shiver of fear.

“I’m a bit surprised you haven’t snuck off somewhere, Sam,” Maxwell said.

“Why would I do that?” Sam questioned.

“Remember, back when we were little? If we ever went on a field trip, you always ran off from the rest of the class and dragged me along with you,”

“Oh yeah, that was so much fun! Back when you were still cute and innocent instead of brooding and edgy,” Sam said gleefully as she pinched Maxwell’s cheeks. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’m taking this just as seriously as you are.” The two were able to quickly consolidate and act like nothing had happened before J could even look back and check on them.

The touring trio proceeded to more key areas of the complex such as the locker rooms, recreational rooms, and the medical wing. They went through more hallways, stairways, and even rafters that plotted the underground base like a labyrinth. Like all treacherous mazes, there were traps hidden in every nook and cranny. Most of them were disabled in the absence of a security alert, J made sure to point each and every trap out. It was mainly to avoid work-related accidents, but she also wanted to ensure no one found themselves in the crossfires of the tripwires, trap doors, and sentry guns in an emergency.

The more vital information was thrown at them, the quieter the duo became. Without skipping a beat, J brought Sam and Maxwell to a section of the base with doors lined up uninterrupted against each other. Though it looked quite unique just by the number of doorways, the duo stopped right at the entrance doors to catch their breath.

“Are you two alright?” J asked in a surprisingly genuine tone.

“We’ve been walking for like, four hours. Can we take a break already?” requested Sam. Though Sam's physique was rather built, most of her athletic training went into her upper-body and glamour muscles, rarely cardiovascular.

“P-please?” Maxwell pleaded, having done far less exercise or training than Sam.

“We cannot. We’re on a tight schedule and I need this tour done ASAP. I’ve got more to do after this,” said J. “Besides, it’s only been three hours,” she added as she checked her wristwatch. J continued ignoring the plight of the new recruits and held open one of the doors for them to pass through. “I’m just gonna warn you two one last time. It only gets more tedious from here. So, you better get used to it,” she said.

The duo relented and dragged themselves into the next area. They realized the trek thus far that they had been relenting was paltry in comparison to what was in store. Simply describing the hangar bay with the word ‘big’ would be an understatement. The entire hangar, built into the side of a mountain, was as wide and almost as tall as a football stadium. It rivaled a sci-fi movie set in its sheer complexity but beat its size outright. Sections of the hangar were portioned off for various reasons. Several areas were for loading and unloading crates and materials while others had jets, gunships, and helicopters parked. A larger section was cordoned off specifically for construction with an overwhelming amount of henchmen working there.

When she thought about it, Sam realized that there were actually more henchmen in here than in all of the other rooms and corridors they’d visited put together. “I take back what I said earlier. THIS place is huge,” Sam said with a mystified inflection.

“Try looking up,” J said as she pointed.

Sam and Maxwell raised their heads up in unison to see another floor above them. The ceiling had a crisscrossed system of catwalks. Countless more jets hung from the ceiling like bees swarming in a hive.

“This is the main hanger. Big, I know. It’s to be expected from a supervillain organization based around aerodynamics and weather,” J said.

The three of them walked towards a freight elevator close to where they had entered from. A few other henchmen lugging crates joined them as they descended. The henchmen greeted J by her initial and she herself returned the salutations.

The duo felt mildly perturbed to hear the masked henchmen speak. They seemed to have a voice-altering mechanism inside of their masks which made their voices a mix of gurgling and static.

“Fresh meat huh, they gonna last longer than the last batch?” one of the henchmen asked.

“I certainly hope so,” J replied with a quick exhale shortly after.

“They can’t keep dying off so fast. This overtime is killing my back,” said another henchman. All the while, the duo stood silently as they observed their conversation.

As the freight elevator made it to the bottom floor, the two groups parted ways.

“Hold on, one second please,” said J as a beeping noise started to play from her headset. She brought the headset’s microphone closer to her mouth and said, “What? Wait I thought these were the last ones?” J paused to listen. She glanced at Sam and Maxwell, who were now sitting on the floor, until she walked out of earshot of them. She mumbled into the mic until her headset made another beep. Her stern expression returned as she walked back.

“There’s gonna be a slight change of plans,” said J. “I have to get back topside to take care of something.”

“So, tour over?” Sam asked as she stood.

“No no, I know someone reliable who can finish it. When you’re done, look for me back at dropzone 1.” J motioned for the pair to follow her one last time. The three of them squeezed their way through a network of construction workers and equipment to get to their impromptu destination.

The sound of construction grew increasingly louder the deeper they ventured into the hanger. J visibly grew more irritated. Her bouffant hairstyle began to tousle and unwind slightly, upsetting J much more than the sudden change in plans or the racket around her. The three of them made their way through the construction to an airstrip being used to unload goods from a cargo plane. The plane, in particular, didn’t appear out of the ordinary. It was big, gray, and didn’t look as villainous as the other planes the Reigning Storm would use.

“Mel, come down here!” yelled J. Several of the henchmen working in and around the plane turned to look over at J and the two young people behind her.

“What?” a man with a nasal voice shouted back from inside the plane.

“I need a favor!” J yelled again as she beckoned to him. She turned to face Sam and Maxwell and said, “He’s worked here ever since the Reigning Storm started up. Out of everyone down here, he's who I trust the most,”

The rest of the henchmen turned their attention back to their duties. A man started walking out from the cargo hold of the plane.

He was a tall man, possibly in his mid to late 40s, in a pilot suit dawning the Reigning Storm colors. The standard goggles and beret hid most of his face, but he wasn’t wearing the mouthpiece. Instead, the mask hung from his neck by the straps. From what the duo could tell, the parts of his skin they could see were a rich dark brown with a bit of black stubble around his lips and chin.

“What is it?!” the pilot shouted at J from a mildly closer distance.

“I need you to take the fresh meat around the base!” J yelled with her hands coned around her mouth.

“But . . . we haven’t ordered any meat this week. Besides, that’s the kitchen staff’s problem!”

“Oh for God’s sake,” J said under her breath. Too impatient to wait for the pilot to walk to them, J power walked over to the cargo plane herself. “Drop whatever you’re doing right now. I need you to take those two recruits around the armory.”

“Uh . . . yes ma'am,” the pilot said.

J checked her watch one last time and began to back towards the exit. While doing so, she pointed at the duo to follow their new replacement now.

“Quick question. Does she always like a stone-cold bitch?” Sam asked as she and Maxwell walked up.

“Naw, J’s pretty decent for a supervillain secretary. A lot of the other folks here are either crazy or secretly crazy and I’m pretty sure she hasn’t shown signs of either,” the man said. He gestured to the duo to follow him as they continued walking towards another passageway out of the hangar.

“I’m guessing you know her then? I mean like, more personally?” Maxwell asked.

“A bit. I’ve known her since we first started up the RS. She’s just stressed from all the shit that’s been going on lately,” the pilot replied.

“You helped create all of this from the beginning? Like during the ‘90s?”

“Bingo! Founding member and still under-ranked. Crazy, right?”

“So uh, what rank are you exactly Mel?” Sam asked.

“Veteran pilot I gu- . . . Aw jeez, she has you saying that too?”

“Saying what?”

“Mel. Mel ain’t my name. My henchman number is M-31, but J’s taken a liking to just calling me Mel for some reason.”

“Oh, huh . . . okay then . . .”

“You can still call me Mel though. You guys seem chill.”

Regardless, Sam and Maxwell were just glad to be acquainted with someone with a friendly disposition in the Reigning Storm.

“So right, the armory,” said Mel. He began to increase his walking speed into a jog. Sam began to jog and catch up with Mel with Maxwell tailing the two of them. Both recruits were still exhausted, but they had no choice but to push themselves further. Neither of them wanted to get lost without a guide.

Rather than properly visiting the remainder of the base, Mel named and pointed out most of the other miscellaneous rooms and sections across the base. Unlike J, his pace was more like a power walk with a few sprints in between locations. The three of them managed to view the rest of the base in as little as half an hour before reaching an elevator.

“So, before, you said J was stressed out because there's been shit going on. What exactly is it?” Maxwell asked as they all walked inside.

Mel waited for the elevator doors to close before speaking. “Long story short. A lot of us were on this big weapons exchange with another supervillain group. Things didn’t go as planned, Captain Proton showed up, and he basically wiped the floor with most of us.” He took a long sigh before he continued. “And now we’re all just panicking, trying to fix up all the stuff that was ruined. Plus, replacing most of the henchmen that got caught or straight up just died.”

Sam’s eyes widened with interest after hearing about the fight with Captain Proton. “That’s the thing that was all over the news last week at Bridgeport, right?” Sam asked as she joined in on the chatter.

“Yeah,” Mel reaffirmed. As he continued to recount the mission, exhilaration started to take over Mel’s tone of voice. “Lemme tell you, they don’t call that fucker ‘unstoppable’ for nothing.” Mel raised four fingers in front of Maxwell's face. “I saw him take four rockets to the face and he shrugged it off like there was something in his nose! Used the poor guy who shot those at him like a goddamn human bat.”

As he was just about to go into greater detail, the inconvenience of an elevator ding signaled the doors to open. More henchmen entered the elevator, and the three of them had to squeeze further back. Sam was waiting for Mel to continue as the elevator ascended, but he stayed quiet for the duration of the ride like the rest of other henchmen.

The last stop led them straight into the armory. Much like all of the other areas, the armory was not shy of being unnecessarily large. Mel took out a keycard from his pocket and unlocked the door. He guided the pair into a fenced-off section within the armory itself. From the other side of the fence, Sam and Maxwell could see rows upon rows of weapons organized like books in a library.

“Neither of you has taken any firearms training yet, so there’s no point in letting you try the big guns,” Mel said.

“Tell us though, you guys got, like, missiles, death rays, and doomsday weapons in there, right?” Sam asked as she pressed her face on the fencing. “And one day we’ll get to use them?”

“Eh, maybe. But here, I can still take you guys into the mini-armory for the time being.”

The mini-armory was the size of an average bedroom with a few guns, gadgets, extra uniforms, and plenty of crates scattered about in a mess. The duo were still rightfully upset for not being able to get into the real armory, but both had lost the energy to protest even if they wanted to.

Maxwell took an interest in the uniform and grabbed a sleeve to feel. Its fabric was tough nylon, but underneath, Maxwell could feel another layer of something far more dense. He guessed that it was kevlar and he was correct when he asked Mel. While Maxwell was fixated on the uniform, Sam took a look at the gas mask mouthpieces that were stocked in a crate

“We call that ‘The Muzzle’. All you gotta do is strap it on your face and press this button here,” explained Mel. It was obvious to Sam why they called it that because of how it jutted out like a dog’s snout and how it fit on one’s face. “Then you can do all sorts of shit like activating the air filter, turning on the voice modulator, or using the built-in radio.”

Sam put on the mask and snuck up to Maxwell. With the voice changer active, she began to breathe heavily into Maxwell’s ear and said, “You don’t know the power of the dark side!” Her voice was deep and gurgly just like the henchmen they had met on the freight elevator.

Maxwell was startled by Sam, but the jumpscare did most of the work while her distorted voice did little to alarm him. “Haha, very funny,” he said, expressing his annoyance at her reference and attempting to pull the mask right off of her.

The duo played with a few more things around the room like other pieces of the uniform and unloaded guns. Opposed to J’s method of touring through places and explaining things in thorough succession, Mel’s style of tour guiding was comparable to a neglectful babysitter letting the kids go wild. Rather than wrecking the place, the duo grew bored and used the extra time to sit and rest their legs more.

“Hey Mel, we kinda left our phones back at the uh . . . office place. When are we gonna get them back you think?” Sam asked as she massaged her calves.

“Well, we can go to check-in and ask. You two ready to leave?” Mel said.

“I'd love to sit and chill, but having my phone back while I sit and chill? Bless,” Sam said in a playfully sarcastic tone.

Using the same elevator they used to get to the armory, the three of them went up another two floors to their next stop. When the doors opened, the duo recognized that they had arrived back at dropzone 1. The only difference was that the closed-off counter next to the elevators was finally open. The interior was like a small mailing office with a few henchmen organizing papers and packages within. At the front was a woman wearing a similar outfit to J’s. She appeared to be slightly older than J, but still had a voluptuous charm similar to hers.

“Hey D, you got the comms ready for the new recruits here?” Mel said as he leaned on the counter.

“I’ll have one of the boys check. Might not be done with them yet, but we’ll see,” D said in an oddly shrill and honeyed voice. D stopped typing on her computer and snapped her fingers. A henchman behind her saluted and dashed off into another room.

“These two are the only new ones today. The techies should have finished by now . . .” Mel said.

“Trust me, those idiots always find a way to top each other's laziness,” said D still fixated on her computer screen.

About five minutes passed. The henchman who had left returned with another henchman who was carrying two small boxes. He set the boxes down in front of Maxwell and Sam and revealed their contents to them.

“Alright, so we made duplicates of your phones. Think of it as a burner phone for on the job,” the henchmen said directly. The duo still hadn't gotten used to the masked voices, but they were able to figure out what he said as they looked through their phones.

Sam flipped her red phone open and checked through all of her settings, making sure that all her contacts and messages were unviolated. Everything seemed to be in order. She grabbed her other phone and flipped it open just the same. The home menu was identical to her original phone, but with an extra menu and new contacts that were in numbers only. She was also disappointed to note a small recent paint-chip on the bottom edge of her original phone.

Maxwell checked his phone and saw the same results. They had managed to find an exact copy of his basic silver cellphone and similar to Sam’s, copied everything in it perfectly. If it weren’t for the extra menu options, these new phones could pass off as the real deal.

“This is crazy, I can’t tell the two apart,” Maxwell said. “Just to clarify, these are for villain stuff only?”

“Bingo,” Mel answered. “These burners have high-end radios built-in, encoded with a frequency only we can tap into. Plus, now you don’t have to bring your normal phones to work,”

“For privacy and security reasons?”

“For privacy and security reasons.”

A henchman from over the counter tapped Mel’s shoulder and said, “Hey, you’re not gonna believe where J told us to find those.”

“Where?” Mel asked with a curious yet playful smile on his face.

“I’m being dead serious here, she threw them in the trash! And she said those two dumbasses stood there and watched!”

“Classic J! I freakin love that girl.”

Their voices grew from a light chuckle into uproarious laughter as they continued their conversation. Sam was so focused on her phones that she didn’t hear, but Maxwell did.

“What are they all laughing about?” Sam asked Maxwell.

“Nothing, it’s fine,” Maxwell replied as he tried to break eye contact from her.

As the laughter subsided, the sounds of winding machinery became more apparent. Another elevator was slowly making its way back down. Maxwell wanted to see who was coming down and decided to walk closer for a better view with Sam tagging behind him. The elevator went slow enough so that they could see J was inside it. A well-kempt man in a buttoned-up shirt was along with her, and it appeared that the man was looking down at the people below. He scanned his eyes across the room before meeting eyes with Maxwell who was staring back.

The eye contact ceased as the elevator's glass door turned red. Accompanied by a resounding pop noise, everyone in dropzone 1 was suddenly looking at the elevator. With the inside hidden by the crimson splatter painted across the door, a second pop was just as sourceless as the first.

A bell signaled the elevator’s return once again. The body slid off of the opening doors and onto the ground; creating a noise akin to a wet mop. Blood continued to seep out of the two bullet wounds and drenched the once clean floor with pure crimson. In the back of the elevator stood J with a smoking gun in hand.

J carefully walked over the body as well as the ever-growing blood pool. She returned the pistol to the shoulder holster she was now wearing and she also removed two small earplugs.

“Excellent, looks like you all finished the tour,” said J, giving her jacket a once-over for any stains.

Sam and Maxwell continued to watch it all unfold; helplessly stunned. A pair of henchmen casually stepped out of the small office carrying toolboxes. As they approached the body, one knelt down to examine it closer. Yet another henchman arrived with a bucket and cleaning supplies, wiping away all evidence of the murder. It seemed like a perfectly rehearsed dance.

A familiar lemon smell wafted through the air to deter the strong smell of blood that had quickly become pungent. Instead of the lemon smell canceling out the blood, both mixed together to make a stench that assaulted the new recruit’s noses who had never smelled anything like it before. Mel, D, and the other henchmen at the check-in counter resumed their conversation as if nothing happened.

The kneeling henchman carefully lifted up parts of the body and clothing as they seemed to grab something out of the man’s pockets. "We found it, ma’am,” said the henchman walking over to J. Maxwell’s gaze was still affixed on the blood and corpse but Sam managed to shift her attention to J.

She held the card closely as she read its details. The letters ‘G-P-O’ were written boldly on the card. Flipping it over revealed a mugshot of the dead man with several barcodes below it all. Gradually, her expression began to change. Her eyes widened, her brow furrowed, and her teeth were made bare. The woman’s smiles and expressions of contempt beforehand were mere raindrops compared to the sea of euphoria she was now in. From Sam’s point of view, J had made the most villainous grin she had ever seen.

Images of themselves in that same elevator flashed through their minds. As they looked around, seeing the 'normalcy' and 'average lives' that every henchman was living, they began to understand the full extent of everything they had seen on the tour. The romanticized facade they had started to imagine crumbled. Neither of them could constrain their elevating heartbeats to pause. He wanted to cry. She wanted to vomit. Even so, a primal instinct washed over them hellbent on survival. They stood still in complete silence, not moving an inch.

"By the way, you’re both free to go home now," said J with a plain look on her face. "We'll see you at orientation tomorrow."

It wasn't fun and games anymore, and there was no turning back.