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What was it like to work for CORG?
The question lingers in Sekhmet's head. It was asked by a rookie in training during one of her lectures at the academy. Not a bad question, she thought. She always encouraged questions. The rookie who asked seemed a bit nervous; like it took everything he had just to raise his hand and speak up. Sekhmet chooses her words well. CORG higher-ups love it when they reel in more rookies with honey so they encourage lecturers to paint a better picture when such questions are asked. Talk about benefits and opportunities; of heroism and prestige; of careers that simply make the world a better place.
Sekhmet has always answered them bluntly. While there was truth in the script that CORG recruiters provide, oftentimes the reality is just much different.
Benefits? Of course CORG has the means to ensure you and your loved ones are taken care of. But when a gun is involved, the scale tips. And given the choice, your loved ones would always choose you over such benefits—though that choice may be out of their hands most of the time.
Heroism? Perhaps there is something heroic about pushing papers. Such mundane things are part of the job but to be called a hero over it would be unheard of—unless the paper you have is a notice of paid leave perhaps.
There are exceptions because, of course there are. Modifiers, for example. CORG loves it when they detect a Modifier before they even awaken, giving them an opportunity to groom them into the perfect weapon. Because at their core, that's what Modifiers are. A weapon. Sekhmet falls into this category. Her awakening, her Access Key—these were things planned ahead of time by CORG; molded from the very beginning to fit a certain role.
"But Miss Sekhmet, if you weren't in CORG, what would you be right now?"
She smiles and replies with the same answer every time she is asked this.
"A psychologist."
Today's the day.
Sekhmet lazily hits her alarm off. She had already been awake minutes prior but the buzzing snapped her back to reality. She had been mentally planning her day and now it was time to get ready for it.
On Paracaesar's orders, Sekhmet was granted a month-long paid recovery time. But this comes with mandatory lab visits to check on her health. After all, the Omega Gear usage needed some post-studying. However, Sekhmet insisted today was reserved for something else and the lab visits can wait, much to Paracaesar's annoyance. That's definitely another day of desk duty for her.
Her mornings are never complete without some tea time. Today's brew is Sobacha, a gift from Izanami to show her gratitude. Sekhmet begins her little tea ceremony and pours the first brew on her tea pet before she brews another. The ceramic lion grows a deeper shade and Sekhmet smiles. The first light of the day begins to seep through her room as she takes a sip of her tea.
"You are a psychologist," Thoth says. "It's not mutually exclusive."
"I'd be a regular human psychologist," she replied, clearing the desk of her notes. "I wouldn't have the brass breathing down on my neck. I'd have my own office, my own schedule... I can conduct my own studies on human behaviors more efficiently."
"With what funding?" Thoth teased. "Besides, you were always meant to awaken."
"Doesn't mean I have to be employed by CORG."
"You can always turn in your two-weeks."
Sekhmet gives her a look as she clicks her briefcase close. "And risk my department falling apart without me? Ha!"
Thoth shakes her head.
"Besides... Modifiers like you and I are not so easily let go. I could drop everything right now and live as a human but CORG has ways to keep in touch. You know that."
Thoth is reminded of a certain bounty hunter in Rostach. She was right. Modifiers with resumes like theirs will always be a part of CORG no matter how far they run.
The lioness moves past her, waving goodbye. "Thanks for coming to my lecture."
Over twenty CORG agents' lives were lost to prevent the Crow God's memetic infection from spreading further. Sekhmet knew every one of them. Per CORG protocol, a volunteer would be sent to the families and inform them of the casualties, as well as offer condolences. Worried about her mental state, Kamau initially offered to volunteer in Sekhmet's place. But she insisted it had to be her and he eventually gave in, deciding she was a much better choice after all.
Her usual uniform might be too much for a solemn purpose so she opted for an alternative. Thank Gaea she found a pair of stockings that weren't ripped. The dog tags made for most of the load in her satchel, as well as the envelopes containing compensation and funeral details. With a final look in the mirror, she dons her hat and proceeds to her first visit.
To make her duty more efficient, she planned her itinerary accordingly—taking the best routes that cover the most addresses and ensuring smoother drive times. Her first stop was the home of Agent D.
"It's highly experimental. Right now we're in the simulation stage."
Sekhmet stands before a holographic screen as Paracaesar explains a brand new invention. For the past decade, their simulations have had less than stellar results. But Paracaesar believes Sekhmet might be of help this time.
"I'm more of a doctor if anything," Sekhmet said. "What did you say was the name of this device?"
Paracaesar smirks. "We call it... the Omega Gear."
Sekhmet can still hear the cries of D's parents as she drives to her next location. To see two headstrong doctors crumble at the news of their daughter's death was heart-wrenching. She dared not interrupt their cries and when they calmed down enough, she was able to hand over D's dog tags. The mother held Sekhmet's hands for a while as if trying to borrow her strength before she slowly released and stared at the piece of metal in her hands. Sekhmet eventually leaves, steadying herself in her car before she drives off. The next visit was to Agent L's family.
In a modest neighborhood stood a house of green. Sekhmet approaches the house and realizes someone had been waiting for her, or more accurately, for Agent L. A young woman stood by the porch and locked eyes with her. She looked to be about the same age as L. Sekhmet recognizes her as the girlfriend and introduces herself. In her hand, she replayed a recording of his last words over and over. Like her previous hand-over, the young woman simply stared at the dog tags in her hand. Once again, she presses the recording and hears L's voice while looking at the dog tags. Sekhmet doesn't move even when the young woman begins to break down. Her cries alert her parents inside and Sekhmet is glad she wasn't alone.
She sighs before starting her car. The day's not over yet.
In all her years as a Modifier, the closest she was ever put to the limit was during her training in CORG. Top of her class, excellent scores across the board, stellar remarks from trainers... Before long, she was out on the field and exercised her duty accordingly.
But being a Modifier came with perks that normal humans could never have. It was almost logical to believe she was superior to them. From the archives, she learned the origin of her namesake and the power it holds. This design seems to be intentional by Gaea, ensuring human connections. Sekhmet laughs. Modifiers are above humans. How absurd it was to think humans and Modifiers were equals. If anything, her work as a Modifier should earn praise from humans; praise well-deserved by someone like her.
Agent R's family was no stranger to KIAs. He essentially came from a military family. This visit is a little different from her previous ones. Sekhmet was invited in and she was faced with a few active CORG agents. They had been expecting her and so they gathered to talk about their fallen brother. She indulges a few details of his last moments, such as how adrenaline kept him going until he completed his mission. The brothers admired his valor, with one even holding on tight to R’s dog tags.
By now it was close to noon and there's still a lot of homes to visit. She decides to stop by one more house before taking a lunch break. Her itinerary brings her to a local gunshop, owned by Agent K's father. Sekhmet can see where she got her penchant for firearms. She finds the man tinkering with a few pieces in his shop before she makes her presence known. The man stops and she can see his heart sink. He had been keeping himself busy, trying to keep the bad news at bay but now she has arrived. His once steady hands began to shake as he tried his best to tidy up the place. The same hands slowly took the dog tags from Sekhmet's hands. A familiar gesture she had been experiencing today.
The alcohol can be cruel in higher doses. What even warranted strong liquor the night before? Was it her Awakening Day? Did someone get promoted?
Her alarm clock had given up on her. Wearing out its batteries trying to wake her. It releases a dying beep before the lights on its screen die. But perhaps it died doing its job well, as Sekhmet stumbled off to work. If her alarm clock died of noble cause, her terminal wasn't easy to silence. As fast as she could, she hurried to the disaster scene.
It was a terrible sight to behold—collapsed structures, injured citizens, crying children. Sekhmet curses under her breath as she rushes towards a couple of responders trying to load an injured person in a med-vec.
“All good, Captain. We already gave him some painkillers. He’s good to go.”
The vehicle zooms off towards the nearest hospital, leaving Sekhmet standing in place. She spots another group in need of hands to lift some heavy debris. Before she could even walk towards them, a few firefighters appeared and successfully helped lift the collapsed concrete.
Everywhere she went, she wasn’t needed. The most help she did was stand watch over some tents. Soon after that, the disaster site was cleared.
Though she faced her superiors’ wrath, they decided to be a bit more lenient with her punishment. But that night, Sekhmet emptied her entire liquor cabinet in a fit of guilt and even showed up to work the next day earlier than expected.
By now her lines were very well-rehearsed. But different audiences require different tones. Given the nature of the mission, Sekhmet obviously cannot reveal confidential details. Most of the time she tweaks her words but ultimately delivers the same news.
For this particular visit, she decided to try something else.
Agent E had lost over a decade’s worth of his memories before he perished; a sacrifice he thought worthy if it meant achieving success in their mission. But it also meant his family was far from his mind in his final moments.
The thought of it pains her.
The sight of the children awaiting news about their father made it difficult for her to continue. She does her best to be gentle when talking to them, like speaking to them at eye level and using words they can understand. She tells them their dad was a hero and that without his help, the bad guys would’ve won. She presents his dog tags to them, which they quietly take from her hands, admiring them as little children would. Their mother did her best suppressing a cry and Sekhmet comforted her as well.
Onto Agent H’s house.
“This is Special Investigator Sekhmet. Mission report follows: I can confirm the Crow God has been eliminated. I repeat, the Crow God has been eliminated. The investigation team… My team is dead. All of them. They died in the line of duty and we couldn’t have done it without them.”
Her grip on her comms tighten as she reports the state of her team. It almost felt like she was about to drop to her knees. The sky was bright and sunny as opposed to what she felt in her chest. Her team—the agents she has known for years, were just gone; she was a captain standing over her dead squad.
“Sekhmet…”
She was smooth with the way she wiped a stray tear by making a show of flipping her hair as she turned around. She was faced with the Administrator from Aether Gazer, who looked quite concerned.
Although they were free from the Crow God’s control, the mission wasn’t over yet.
Agent H was the last agent who stayed behind to ensure their safe exit. As Sekhmet ponders how to deliver the news to his kids, she suddenly remembers he was a bachelor.
She was, however, greeted by a friendly cat whose markings remind her of a certain feline-themed agent.
It was hard enough to make children understand grief, much less a pet. The cat bounds for her legs before a little old lady makes her presence known. Apparently, she was H’s landlady, who often volunteered to watch over his cat.
As a psychologist, Sekhmet knows the first stage of grief is denial. In her early years at CORG, she often wondered why the people seemed oblivious to these visits. A representative from CORG visiting your home with their hat down can’t be any good. But denial is a hard stage to leave. It doesn’t hold on tight, it instead entices you with the perfect fantasy. It ensures you never ever want to leave.
The old lady cried, much like a mother who lost her son would. The cat sensed her distress and hopped on her lap. She hugs the cat.
At the very least, Sekhmet is glad the cat wasn’t going to end up in a shelter. Sekhmet hands over the envelope and helps the old lady understand its significance. She knows she’s the closest family Agent H has and she knows he’d be glad if she were the one who receives his dog tags.
Sekhmet takes one last look at the cat before she leaves. Agent H’s dog tags were draped on her. She wonders when it will ever realize he is gone.
Akika laughs maniacally, looking down at her battered form. Her mockery meant nothing to her. The fire in Sekhmet's eyes only raged brighter than ever. Even from her height, Akika can see this and her expression is replaced by annoyance instead. It should not be hard to stomp on a bug.
With all her might, Sekhmet roars. And with her fangs, she activates the Omega Gear strapped to her wrist. A surge of Divine Grace instantly overwhelms her but she remains standing. In fact, she felt better than ever.
The day was almost over. Exhaustion begins to creep on her like never before. She almost forgot she’s supposed to take it easy while Paracaesar sorts her out. She can already hear Kamau reprimanding her for pushing herself too much. Sekhmet chuckles at the thought.
After the last two stops at Agent W’s and Agent B’s homes, Sekhmet was left with her final visit.
The little girl was drawn to the fancy box Sekhmet was holding. She was too distracted to see her mother was in tears as Sekhmet handed her something.
“Hi. You’re Kara, right?”
The little girl nods.
“My name is Sekhmet. I worked with your dad.”
Sekhmet realizes she still hasn’t gotten used to the past tense in her lines. It leaves a bad taste in her mouth. But as she does with children, she tries to be gentle with her approach. She finally notices the little girl had been eyeing the box she carried.
“You know… he asked me to give this to you,” she said as she opened the box to reveal an elegant Sasanami doll.
The little girl’s eyes brightened at the sight. Sekhmet carefully hands her the doll and she cradles it gently for a hug.
“He told me you wanted one for a long time. He knows you’ll take good care of her.”
Kara nods. “Do you wanna play?”
Sekhmet was taken aback by her request. She turns to the mother who was watching them both with teary eyes. She, too, gives a slight nod.
“I would love to.”
Paracaesar was greedy. Eager to run the tests herself, looking over screens and papers, checking samples—like a child in a candy store, only in this case, it was a bleak laboratory under heavy security.
"You look happy," Sekhmet commented. An assistant just helped with drawing blood from her arm. He shuffles away quietly, much too focused on getting the samples to a dish per Paracaesar's instructions.
The pink-haired woman observes the tests being run.
"Your results are just so interesting," she replied. "I've never seen anything like this."
"I should hope so," Sekhmet said. "I'm the only one crazy enough to try this."
Paracaesar grins and Sekhmet is unsure why.
“Surprisingly, not. But how his results came about were a little different than yours.”
Sekhmet squints, prompting Paracaesar to elaborate. “What are you talking about?”
She doesn’t respond immediately. The bloodwork showed favorable results. She smiles.
“Have you ever heard about the lighthouse in Krete?”
Grief is an awful beast. It makes its home in your heart and it takes time before it can leave, if it ever does. What is grief to immortals like her? Is it just another feeling that can be healed by living long enough or will it stay in her heart forever? Sekhmet is inclined to believe in the latter. No matter how small the grief, she will always carry it now and she will always feel its weight. It will always find her in her quiet moments. But maybe it can also be a good thing. Maybe that way, her team will always live on in her heart. Maybe grief can coexist with love.
“So, Captain. No more goodbyes.”
Evening has fallen but Sekhmet didn’t feel like going home yet. She decides to swing by a local park for a little peace. At this hour, the park was populated by fewer people, most of whom were on their way home. In the distance, she can hear kids insisting on staying for a few more turns at the slide; a couple passing by was talking about dinner plans; and an older gentleman bids her good evening. She made herself comfortable on a solitary park bench and sighs at how the day turned out. She visited a lot of families delivering bad news in such a short span of time. She’s aware this can take such a toll on one’s mental health. Maybe Paracaesar can understand if she decides to take a raincheck on her lab visit tomorrow…
“You guys don’t usually patrol this route,” Sekhmet said to no one in particular. But the bushes nearby rustled and out popped a surprised Bastet, followed by Anubis.
“C-Captain! How did you know?!” Bastet exclaimed. Her partner simply sighed.
“Just a hunch,” she teased. “What are you guys here for? This park is clear. No unusual activity.”
The pair looked at each other before answering.
“We saw you earlier, Captain. We just wanted to make sure you’re alright,” Anubis replied.
“We heard you were out, um, doing deliveries. Senpai and I just happened to be in the area,” Bastet added, fidgeting with her hands.
Sekhmet chuckles. She finds their honesty amusing. Deep down, she was glad they weren’t intentionally tailing her for surveillance. “I see. I appreciate both of your concerns. Thank you.”
The pair once again looked at each other, unsure how to move forward.
“Uh, Captain. It’s about to rain. We should find shelter,” Anubis suggested.
“Rain?” Just as Sekhmet asked, a teardrop fell on her arm. No longer could she contain the tears that she had been keeping in all day. She smiles when she realizes what these two were up to.
“Ah, you’re right,” she chuckled as she wiped her eyes. “I didn’t realize the rain. Where shall we go?”
“There’s a tea shop nearby that serves really delicious ochazuke. Do you want to try it, Captain?” Bastet asked.
“That sounds good,” she replied, putting on her hat. “Lead the way.”
Sekhmet spent her entire day being there for others and she was content to leave it at that. But even doctors need their check-ups too. And in times like this, it’s better to be with some company and perhaps even enjoy some really delicious ochazuke.