“Welcome back,” I said.

  While it was true I hadn’t seen Enforcer McDouglas since before the gate blockade emergency, the way he said “we need to talk” was very obviously serious. My nervousness made me sound like I wanted to see his vacation photos, or worse, like I was hiding something. I knew this was about the Restricted documents I just pushed to the database.

  His polo was sunflower yellow today.

  “Thanks,” McDouglas replied, only a touch off balance. “I got an alert that you saw something you weren’t supposed to. We need to deal with that.”

  “Okay…”

  When he shut the door, he leaned his back against it. Was he blocking my exit? No, that was crazy.

  Wasn’t it?

  “The mistake isn’t yours. Someone did something monumentally stupid for those documents to end up down here, but that doesn’t change that you’re not supposed to have any knowledge of those documents or their contents.”

  “I was told I might stumble into something sensitive, and if I did, I was expected to keep it quiet,” I replied.

  “That speech was more meant for things like budgets or paystubs or something like that. Where are the files?”

  I handed the folder over.

  “I need to see your phone.”

  “Why?”

  “To confirm you didn’t make copies of these.”

  I unlocked my phone and handed that over as well. After several seconds of swiping and poking, he returned it.

  McDouglas crossed his arms. “Okay. The agency knows you have seen these. It’s a permanent part of your file now. None of that is disciplinary. Nobody believes you did anything wrong, but in the event of a leak, you, a fucking intern, are on the shortlist of people that will be investigated immediately. That’s also not disciplinary. It’s procedure. However, if you are found to have knowingly or unknowingly shared this information, your life is over. That’s how serious this is.”

  Damn. I half-expected to get black-bagged right there and carted off to a remote location. A manila folder didn’t feel like the appropriate container for anything this serious. Put a lock on it or something.

  “I have no issues keeping a secret,” I said.

  “Good. You look like shit, by the way.” He cracked a grin.

  “I got my ass kicked.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “I figure someone told you.”

  “No, I see how messed up your face is.”

  I laughed. “I hope I don’t get arrested for asking this, but how do I get the job those files mention?”

  McDouglas’ smile disappeared. “If you got in, you would be the first person to know about the Project before they were invited to participate.”

  “I’m not trying to twist this. It just sounded like something I’d really want to be a part of.”

  “You don’t know what they do.”

  “I don’t, but I know it’s important.”

  He considered me for another long pause and opened the door. Pausing in the doorway, he spoke over his shoulder. “An exceptional candidate would be as good in the wilds as they are in dungeons and bring a new perspective to this gate business.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  McDouglas shut the door, leaving me alone in the room again.

  My mind kept coming back to this line about the impact of Project Unsung Heroes:

  “...has spared the United States government catastrophic loss of life and property at a scale that is difficult to accurately calculate while also extracting a return greater than its annual budget.”

  I was also thinking about the line that mentioned sizable compensation, but someone being paid a lot of money didn’t tell me what this group actually did. For the CDM, catastrophic loss of life and loss of property had to have something to do with closing dangerous gates or preventing high-level crawlers from rampaging. Or both, perhaps?

  The more important question for me: Was getting picked for Unsung Heroes as unlikely as landing a crawling spot at a guild? Maybe even more so?

  Then again, McDouglas did say I would be the first person to have prior knowledge of the program. It stood to reason then that I could also be the first person to prepare for this position specifically. Wouldn’t the only person who knows he’s in a competition have an advantage over all of those who didn’t?

  I knew there was a competition, sure, but for what and about what? The more I pondered, the more evident it was that I really knew nothing at all.

  My thoughts ran in so many circles that I worked until 7 p.m. without realizing. It took a text from Beth asking me if I wanted dinner to get my attention.

  Nathan handed me a beer. By the time I got back to the apartment, Beth had already left for work, so it was just us in the living room.

  “Megan and I are going out Friday,” he said.

  “Wow. You two really did hit it off.”

  “She’s cool. We’ve really just texted a bunch. I don’t know what hanging out just the two of us will be like. She’s pretty easy to talk to, though.”

  Nathan stiffened.

  I waved my hands. “No, I’m not interested. We’ve just worked together a lot.”

  “Thank goodness,” Nathan said with his hand on his chest. “For a second there, I thought I stomped all over bro code without even thinking.”

  “Just don’t do something that makes it weird for me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” I insisted. “I’m saying don’t forget that I have to spend long shifts alone with her sometimes, and that would suck if it was awkward.”

  “Have I done something that weird before?” he asked.

  “No, forget I said anything. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m worried now.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “Then why would you bring it up?!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Long day. I think you’ll have fun together. I don’t actually think you’ll do something weird.”

  “You’re knocking me off course already, man.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Confidence is a fragile thing.”

  “Geez, okay. Topic change, please.”

  Nathan grinned. “You may have the floor, senator.”

  “I recently learned that experience in the wilds could help me move up the ladder in the CDM.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s more dangerous than dungeon crawling, right?”

  “Most people would say so, sure,” I answered.

  “That’s… Damn, dude. You’d have to go to Canada. That’s your only option, right?”

  “The next closest thing to true wilds is West Virginia. If they have goblin activity, maybe there’s something bigger lurking around.”

  Nathan sighed. “That’s a pretty sucky option too.”

  “Yeah, what do I know about camping and tracking?”

  “Could learn.”

  “True.”

  “Would still suck.”

  “Also true,” I admitted.

  “What about that guy you ran into goblins with?” Nathan asked. “Sounded like he knew a few things about monsters on the surface.”

  “That’s a really good idea,” I said.

  He shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

  A good bit of time passed without conversation. I got us fresh beers.

  A few sips into his, Nathan looked at me. “Are you thinking of doing something crazy?”

  “I haven’t thought of anything.”

  “We’ve been talking about you going after wild monsters. That’s already kind of crazy. You can’t do anything for Beth if you get yourself killed.”

  “I am not interested in dying,” I said. “I’m only trying to puzzle my way through this. I appreciate you caring, though.”

  “Sure, man.”

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