Chapter Text
A woman and a man stood shoulder to shoulder, three letters—FBI—printed in bright yellow on the back of their jackets. A taxidermy deer watched ominously overhead as the two of them sipped their coffee in perfect synchroneity.
The woman sighed while pressing her eyelids together, “Casey, we can’t go with them . . .”
“Saga—”
“No.” The woman turned to look out the window, “Casey, just no. Logan needs me, I can’t afford to be disappeared by some shady government department.”
A black leather jacket, a maroon undershirt, black jeans, red hair, and a killer poker face. This was Director Jesse Faden of the Federal Bureau of Control. She lacked the ostentatious grandstanding her predecessor, Zacharia Trench was known for. He would never have napped with his head buried in his arms in his office—a brutalist concrete box with all the welcoming homeyness of exposed concrete—or at home. Jesse being human (as opposed to a larger-than-life authority figure) was indicative of her vision for her bureau —a bunch of very human basement conspiracy theorists more interested in celebrating the weirdness of the world than in containing it (despite the colossal efforts required to do so.)
The Oldest House—the FBC headquarters—was fucked, and Jesse was daunted. That isn’t what most of the survivors expected of their director who causally threw rocks heavier than fully armored rangers at breakneck, baseball-pitching speeds.
Maybe they think I’m finally cracking from it all. Shoshanna did have a “Sure you’re ok?” look when I asked her to put up “Janitor’s Assistant” under the Director plaque outside. I would think that I’m cracking under the pressure too. Maybe I should go talk to the plants down at research. No. I’d sound even more like a crazy lady. Jesse forces herself to sit back up in her chair. Her butt is going numb already. Maybe I should read some Thomas Zane? She sighs. He doesn’t exist. Right, maybe I should task a team to investigate that. Hey Polaris, do you think that Bureau reports will be as interesting as Zane's? There’s no reaction from the extra-dimensional resonance entity she’s bound to. She’s going to take that as a no. Alright Jesse, now’s not the time for this. People are looking to you for direction.
She flipped open the folder she had been napping on. With the lockdown lifted, she’d been caught up in the aftermath of losing exactly 88.33% of their non-field staff. The feelings of grief, ‘that was too close,’ confusion, and overwhelming relief saturated the air. She knew that the bereaved, angry mail from families wouldn’t be far behind. Then there’d also be plenty of survivor’s guilt to go around soon enough. She would also have to deal with the attention and litigation the beleaguered families would bring. The Bureau covered up the disappearance of all adults in an entire town just fine at full strength . She agrees that the wider world isn’t ready for just how strange and horrifying the real world was and that was the root cause of her worry. Almost everyone with experience covering up such incidents were dead; did she have the kind of staff she needs to pull through? Her field operatives were still mostly alive, that was the only silver lining to all of that.
And speaking of field operatives, somehow communication going out from the naked concrete walls of the Oldest House never faltered despite no one sending out anything from the bureau. The only two exceptions? Bright Falls, the site of a major AWE—Altered World Event—and Frontier Town out in the wild west. Why only these two places? Jesse’s guess is as good as yours.
She wanted to know the reason. She wanted to be a good enough director that her people can look up to. Logically, she knew she was always going to be operating on what-ifs and partial information with the Board involved. She also knew that she was going to have to err on the side of caution, but she didn’t want to become the faceless organization that destroyed her childhood. She also knows better than to think that she can bullshit The Board and get away with it.
The file she was looking into? It was related to Bright Falls, or, the “New Bright Falls AWE” as the bureau had taken to calling it. It was apparently eerily similar to the Bright Falls AWE from 13 years ago. Jesse had a run in with the physically oppressive darkness that characterizes this particular AWE and she had also seen what it can do to civilians, because apparently Dr. Emile Heartman was not always a light-averse elongated stick man with inky shadows for flesh. Couple that with the fact that it was one of the only 3 AWEs that have an entire wing dedicated to its study and characterization—which is like having a few thousand square feet dedicated for the aftermath of 3-day long crime spree. One that was yet to be solved after more than a decade because it’s that obtuse, grandiose, and crucially important.
The New Bright Falls AWE had quickly shot its way up to the top of her—and by extension, the FBC’s—priority list. The problem is that the FBI were involved, and for a secretive government organization that is unknown to the wider world by necessity, that’s bad. The FBI in a backwater town? That was the kind of thing that pulls attention. Attention that the Bureau couldn’t afford. Why? If Jesse were to explain, she’d say: The people of the world live in a room, and there’s a poster on the wall. They think that that’s the whole world—the room and the poster—but it’s all a lie. Something to distract them from the truth. The world is much bigger . . . and much stranger. There’s a hole hidden behind that poster that leads to the real world, but they feel safe in that room. The FBC keeps it that way, and so here she was tackling her first AWE as Director Faden (as opposed to just Jesse Faden.)
She was thinking through her options for taking the FBI out of the picture, and doing it quietly. And I’m running out of mental capacity to come up with any good solutions. I really need to get my management team in order sooner rather than later. The FBI agents know too much, and my best ideas are to have them discredited but I’m already running on skeleton staff, or a memory wiped with the camera flash altered item. I hate both. For Jesse, she wasn’t particularly confident that the bureau was ready to handle another coverup alongside everything else. Plus, she knew enough about people to see how high-achievers like the Anderson-Casey duo would spiral into an obsessive investigation or completely breakdown if the bureau managed to discredit them enough to counteract their stellar track records. With a coverup, the anger and curiosity would fester. God knows she spent a lifetime flitting between foster care, juvie, and odd jobs after what happened in her hometown (ironically named ‘Ordinary.’) At the very least, their families didn’t deserve that kind of heartbreak. No. I won’t let my bureau do the kinda bullshit that Trench authorized. The second option was as bad. Her stint at a nursing home had given her enough insight into the kind of distress an amnesiac family member could cause. But what else can I do? Casey and Anderson have to go.
And then things got more complicated when the telltale geometric swirl of pearlescent glass shards flashed along the edges of her vision as she went over that second name again. Saga Anderson , the woman leading the FBI investigation in Bright Falls. Polaris—the sentient vibration she was bound to—liked this Agent Saga Anderson. Jesse sighs, leans back, and stares at the ceiling. At least the FBI haven’t sent further agents into the field, that would be a pain.
“That would be pain indeed. Perkele.” Jesse would recognize that rough, drawn-out cadence anywhere. Ahti was the only Janitor in this infinitely large building, and she’s pretty sure he was not completely human. Very hard to forget. “Very tiring day, ja, girl?”
“You could say that,” she replies, and someone needs to figure out how Emily is so fucking energetic all the fucking time. God knows we could all use that energy.
The man chuckles, friendly as ever. “Yes, yes, that girl is very . . . innostunut. Saatana. Very nice but the Board may take her behind the sauna.”
Ahti never did make complete sense, and it seems like he wasn’t going to start now.
“Ah, Ahti?”
“The assistant has questions, mhh?” Ahti still hadn’t stopped mopping the floor in slow lazy strokes. Jesse wasn’t even aware of the rather big oily-looking puddle on the carpet.
“There’s two FBI involved in the Bright Falls AWE and I don’t want to be like Trench. Can’t think of anything, any suggestions?” The janitor always understands.
Ahti swayed around his mop a little, thinking. “You are Director trying to bring change, she is left behind like duck. You are in Oldest House, she is behind god’s back. Here olis kirveellä töitä, but remember, if you bow to one, you show your butt to other. Perkele.”
Well, I did ask for his opinion even if I didn’t understand any of it. “I will keep that in mind Ahti.”
“You are not a yesterday’s grouses son, helvetti, you see dog buried in this, but moaning will not make the trouble go away.” Ahti pauses, “I know her grandfather, he make the music I give you on Walkman.”
“The Ashtray Maze music?”
“Very good music, ja?”
“I liked it.” It was awesome.
“You have good taste, but now I must go to Research Wing.”
The conversation was over, the puddle had vanished (when did that happen?) and Ahti was gone.
Jesse a choice. She puts on the mildly beat up cassette player Ahti gifted her.