Location: The Black Courts Western Headquarters – Senior Agent Office Floor

  Oz, Or Lortum, was absent mildly flipping through the Amiga computer that his host had previously used to sort various case files. The PC was an old, almost cube shaped box, and judging from the various other desks scattered around, was very much in need of an upgrade. Lortum had always prided himself on being able to keep up with the ever changing world... Even when humans began to rapidly evolve their technology in what was referred to as the "industrial revolution", the ancient Jinn was able to understand the workings behind various new machinery.

  But that was when he had last been active as a possessed human, not a Jinn, Lortum himself was also far behind on humanities science. But that hadn’t been too long ago, after all how far could humanity have developed in just a few hundred years.

  ‘It isn’t as if they had some kind of industrial…’ He paused thinking of the word, ‘…Revolution.’

  Still, Oz was far behind. In fact, even this decrepit box they called a computer had barely been touched, instead Oz seemed to have stored all of his case files in various stacks of yellowed paper scattered around his desk. If it wasn't for the badgering monkey to his left, Lortum would have assumed he'd have been ostracized by his colleagues for his messy appearance.

  "–I heard false intel put you in a Jinn nest of over 20 rank 3's!" Continued the bubbly woman, her eyes wide with admiration. "And yet here you are, not even a week later and fully recovered..."

  Somehow, Oz seemed to have been a small local legend within the western branch, and the grizzled old man managed to find himself with a small cult following. It was a strange thought for Lortum, as he wasn't used to men with horribly scarred faces to be so popular. Especially not someone like Oz, whose entire left side of his skull was riddled with burn scars.

  "Still, for you to be so composed after everything, Mr Oz..." Nodded the senior agent in deep thought, "It's hard to believe you're even human, Hahaha."

  "I'm human." Responded Lortum, through Oz's body.

  The senior agent, Primrose -as her lanyard said-, seemed to be taken aback by how serious her senior responded. Lortum fought back the rising nervousness, he may be slightly socially stunted after not having possessed a human in over a century, but even he was aware that that had come off as slightly awkward.

  "Uhm, I know sir..?" She said, carefully, "I was just joking?"

  Lortum nodded. Understanding the situation and adapting with a brilliant reaction speed, "I see... Very funny."

  "..."

  "Haha." The Jinn added, making sure to drive the point home that he really got the joke.

  There seemed to be a long silence between Oz, and the young woman, Primrose. Lortum begun to wonder if he had blown his cover and was suddenly very thankful that there wasn't anyone else present in the shared office space this early in the morning, but as soon as he had that thought another, even more horrid idea crept into his mind.

  Would he even be able to "silence" her? He was severely weakened as of this moment, and the woman in front of him was a senior agent of the Court despite her tactless nature.

  Finally, after what seemed like a millennium, Senior agent Primrose deftly changed the subject, "Moving on, Mr Oz... I heard you've been assigned a supervisor role for that new crazy rookie!"

  Feeling slightly proud of his silver tongue, Lortum happily allowed her to move onto the new topic. "Ah Yes, Lupe Shadoll, her file is filled with all sorts of nonsense."

  "But I heard she is surprisingly capable for someone so fresh from the academy... Or maybe I should say it's unsurprising, considering her family name."

  Lortum scoffed, waving a dismissive hand as if the topic bored him.

  "A bloodline does not guarantee excellence, not even the Shadolls. It merely raises expectations, which most humans promptly trip over."

  Primrose nodded rapidly, as if she was the apprentice of a wise sage. "Well, you're the perfect person to keep her in line, Sir. You've trained dozens of recruits, isn't that right?"

  Lortum paused. Oz had trained zero, and the Jinn obviously hadn't either, between his body and his spirit they had no experience.

  "…Naturally," he lied, smoothing his silvery, mismatched beard hairs with an air of practiced superiority. "I'm known for my… effective methods."

  Primrose leaned closer over her desk, eyes wide with genuine interest. "Really? What kind of methods?"

  Lortum smirked internally. At last, someone worthy of being enlightened by his brilliance.

  "Firmness," he said, ticking off a finger. "Authority."

  A second finger.

  "And absolute psychological dominance."

  Primrose nodded in understanding, despite her and Oz having the same rank, she had firmly established herself as a junior.

  Before he could elaborate on his flawless leadership philosophy, the office door slammed open with enough force to rattle the flickering ceiling light. Lupe Shadoll stood in the frame.

  With her armoured jacket unzipped, her hair unkept, and the agents expression showing a bottomless well of disinterest. Lupe had made it clear in the very first second that she had no interest working directly under anyone.

  "Senior Agent Oz," she said, giving a half-salute. "Reporting as ordered."

  Primrose beamed and waved enthusiastically. "Hi Lupe! Welcome to the Senior Office floor! I'm Senior Agent Primrose, but feel free to call me Mable."

  Lupe blinked at her in slow confusion, then at Lortum, then seemed to silently decide that engaging with either of them wasn't worth the effort and kept quiet.

  Lortum seized his moment.

  "You're late," he declared, though she wasn't. "Since this is your first day under my supervision, we'll establish the hierarchy immediately. Go fetch me a coffee."

  He leaned back in Oz's creaking chair, steepling his fingers like an emperor awaiting tribute.

  Lupe stared at him.

  Long. Flat. Unblinking.

  "…Right," she muttered. "Coffee."

  And she left.

  Primrose clasped her hands together. "Wow, she listens so well! You really do know how to command rookies!"

  "Of course," Lortum replied smugly. "Intimidation is a refined art."

  "Honestly, I'm surprised that tone worked," She said, contemplative, "You sounded like a horrible, old grandpa... I was worried she was going to spit at your feet,"

  After several minutes of Lortum deciphering how exactly he had come off as a horrid geezer instead of the vibe of a seasoned battle commander that he had been going for, Lupe returned and wordlessly set a paper cup on his desk.

  Lortum nodded with approval, lifting it as Primrose watched like a child waiting for a magic trick.

  He sipped. Then froze.

  Something thick slid across his tongue. It was not coffee. It was not any drink known to mortal biology.

  Oz's throat convulsed.

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  "…What," he croaked, "is this."

  Lupe yawned, already walking toward her assigned desk. It was a small thing directly opposite Oz, and the only decoration was a metal name card that read 'Shadoll'.

  "We were out of coffee grounds. So I improvised."

  Primrose leaned over to inspect the cup. "Is that… soy sauce? And… is that a marshmallow?"

  Lupe shrugged. "...Yeah, at first I thought I should have called it quits and come back, but I wasn't eager to disappoint my new supervisor." The raven haired woman paused for thought, "Anyway, I figured something out, I hope it's too your liking."

  Lortum placed the cup down very, very slowly.

  "I," he said through clenched teeth, "am a patient supervisor."

  Primrose clapped. "That's real maturity!"

  Lupe finally sighed, kicked her feet up on her desk, and cracked open a can of something carbonated and suspiciously off-brand.

  "…You don't actually care about that hierarchy stuff, do you?" she asked casually, not even glancing at him.

  Lortum bristled.

  "I am your superior."

  Lupe shrugged. "Cool."

  "That means you will follow my instructions."

  "Yep."

  "And respect my authority."

  "Mm-hm."

  Lortum scowled. "You aren't listening at all."

  Lupe's eyes half-opened, revealing a sliver of midnight beneath her lashes - a subtle flare of Grudge that only someone like Lortum could sense.

  A monstrous pressure. A familiar hunger. Raw, unfocused potential. Lortum understood immediately, this girl was a Shadoll, and the last one at that. But instead of her vast potential intimidating the Jinn, all it did was serve as fuel to his fire. He would posses her. With Lupe's power her could forget about being a mere rank 3, even the upper echelons would be within his reach.

  It washed over him like a passing shadow from something very large. And then it was gone-just as suddenly.

  Lupe took a long sip from her drink, expression unreadable.

  "I'm listening," she said. "I just don't care."

  Lortum felt every hair on Oz's mortal body stand on end. This girl was horrible, what a bully!

  "I love the chemistry!" Started Primrose. "You two are going to work so well together!" she chirped.

  Lortum thought very deeply, his stolen brain rapidly producing various new tactics to outmanoeuvre his new apprentices stubborn temperament. If he was in his prime, perhaps the Jinn may have been able to use his signature goetry…

  Goetia was divided into several 'Keys'. While Court agents like Oz, Primrose and Lupe all practiced the well-known Key of binding, Lortum found his talents to lie elsewhere... Although currently limited by his own injuries, recovery meant being able to mould the people around him as he saw fit. That, however, was a long way out.

  Standing rather suddenly, Lortum ran a hand over his face in an effort to remove the long strands that had fallen over his eyes.

  "It's no matter," He said, his voice more solemn and nonchalant than he actually felt, "I picked out an assignment for you, consider it a chance to demonstrate your skills."

  Lupe stood slowly, leaving her half-drunk can on the desk. Despite showing more enthusiasm for field-work than coffee fetching, her expression remained one of perpetual boredom.

  "...And if you prove to me that you don't need supervision." Started the ancient Jinn, "We can talk about having you released early."

  Not that he ever intended to actually let such a talented vessel walk free, but from the way her posture straightened and her face grew serious Lortum would keep that to himself.

  Lupe parked the slick, black car on the side of the road. Lortum, as a Jinn never quite mastered the art of piloting these strange 'automobiles', so he cleverly came up with the excuse that he had to go over the case file on the way there, and had his apprentice drive instead.

  Closing the door behind himself, the Jinn let out a sigh of relief. "Perhaps next time we ought to request a driver..."

  Lupe bristled at that comment, her pride rather obviously hurt. "Your car is weird, only having four gears is ridiculous."

  Lortum wanted to point out that the gears had nothing to do with the young agent struggling to keep on her side of the road, but decided to keep such a complaint to himself, he was beyond such petty conflicts after all.

  The two of them stood in silence, observing the building they had been summoned to. The western quadrant of New Europe was know for its vast factories and industrial complexes, so neither of them were surprised to find their given location to be an abandoned warehouse. Nor were they surprised that Jinn, who prefer to hang around in places where they could avoid human contact.

  Circling the perimeter, Lupe and Lortum made several observations; Firstly, there were no gaps in the tall metal fence surrounding the building, so the only possible escape route for the Jinn would be through the main entrance... Assuming there even was a Jinn sighting, that is. Nearly 75% of reports made were entirely false, and either malicious pranks from teenagers or ignorant adults overreacting about a flickering light.

  The second observation came from Lortum, but he did not share it with his protégé. And that was that he could not sense the smell that came with the territory of a Jinn.

  'A fake report, then.’ Concluded the vengeful spirit. 'Best to keep this too myself, sensing grudge as intricately as I am doing now wouldn't be considered a "human skill".'

  Yawning, Lupe turned to face Oz, "Well, we've done the standard perimeter work. There aren't any anomalies either..."

  A morbid grin danced along the Agents face, "Guess that means we can explore the actual warehouse now, huh?"

  Before Lortum could even respond, Lupe had already turned on her heel and practically skipped in joyous whimsy to the side entrance of the large building. The disguised Jinn could only shake his head, she was one of 'those' humans. The kind who got excited from near-death situations, also known as adrenalin junkies.

  Lupe's boots clanged against the rust-rotted metal ramp as she reached the side door. She turned her neck to flash Oz a smile that seemed to indicate 'Are you coming?' Before pushing the door open with an audible creek.

  He joined her at the threshold, stepping into a wall of stale dust and cold air. The interior was vast, the kind of darkness that swallowed light instead of reflecting it. Crates were stacked like coffins, long abandoned conveyor belts frozen mid-process as if the workers had simply vanished.

  Producing a flashlight from inside her padded jacket, Lupe illuminated the concrete floor.

  "Nothing at first glance" she said, failing to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "Just a rat or two."

  Lortum kept a measured distance behind her, hands clasped behind his back, the picture of calm professionalism. Despite the fact that he had no interest in dealing with whatever mundane disappointment this report would inevitably yield.

  "Empty," Lupe muttered, sweeping the light across another aisle of abandoned machinery. "Empty and boring."

  "Do temper your enthusiasm," Lortum replied dryly.

  Lupe ignored him, hopping over a fallen metal beam. She continued to point the flashlight in various directions, looking for anything potentially noteworthy.

  "Wait," she said.

  Lortum stepped forward, peering over her shoulder. Something lay in the shadows between two conveyor belts. A hunched over shape. Too large to be a rat.

  Lupe approached with the same enthusiasm a child might show approaching a pile of leaves. She crouched, tapping the body with the end of her flashlight.

  The man was sprawled half on his side, limbs twisted awkwardly. He was dressed in scruffy clothing, and matched the outfit with a rugged face. In short, he looked like a criminal. Not the intelligent kind. The kind that got knocked out in abandoned buildings.

  Lupe grimaced.

  "I hate when reports are actually just idiots sleeping off a bender." She rolled the man onto his back with the grace of someone flipping over an old rug. His head lolled uselessly. "Wonderful. He's alive."

  Lortum raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that with such disdain?"

  "Because now I have to help him."

  "He is a citizen in need of medical aid," Lortum replied, choosing the most bureaucratic phrasing he could. "You are legally obligated."

  Lupe groaned loudly enough to echo across the steel rafters.

  She pulled out a small first-aid pouch from her jacket and slapped it down next to the unconscious man. "You're the supervisor, care to show me how it's done?"

  Lortum didn't say anything, and Lupe continued on regardless, seemingly not expecting an actual response anyway.

  Lupe worked in silence for several moments, grumbling under her breath as she checked the man's pulse and shined her flashlight over his face.

  "Breathing's steady," she muttered. "He reeks by the way."

  Lupe reached behind the man's neck to check for swelling.

  She froze.

  "…What is this?"

  Lortum leaned in slightly, careful to maintain Oz's aloof posture. The girl's posture had shifted, no longer bored and irritable. She was alert, focused.

  She gently brushed the man's hair aside.

  A circular puncture mark sat at the base of his skull. The flesh around it was swollen and sickly purple, spreading in branching patterns like a bruise

  But more striking were his surrounding veins. Pitch black.

  Lupe hissed through her teeth.

  "That's not booze."

  Lortum crouched, feigning analytical interest.

  "Some form of injection," he said evenly. "Likely a new drug."

  Lupe nodded, face grim. "And not self-inflicted. Nobody stabs themselves at that angle."

  She angled the flashlight closer. The purple around the wound almost seemed to pulse.

  And then the man's body twitched slightly. Lupe looked up to her supervisor with a questioning gaze. "I guess we call an ambulance?"

  A low, wet sound escaped the man's throat.

  They both turned toward him.

  His back arched violently.

  Lupe barely had time to blink before the man's entire spine snapped into a rigid arc, lifting him off the concrete as if invisible wires were pulling him upward. His jaw opened with a sharp crack, teeth grinding as a guttural, almost gurgling groan clawed its way out of his throat.

  "Hey-hey!" Lupe scrambled forward, both hands raised. "Sir, calm down! You're going into shock-"

  "Agent Shadoll," Lortum warned, already sensing the shift in the air, "keep your distance."

  But Lupe Shadoll was young, and stubborn, and much too used to jumping into danger rather than stepping back from it.

  A Fierce snapping sound, akin to a whip, echoed out throughout the warehouse. A fist had struck Lupe square in the chest, delivering a blow similar to being hit by a speeding semi-truck.

  She was launched, her body bending mid-flight before she slammed into a stack of metal crates twenty feet away. The crash echoed through the warehouse, rattling the rusted rafters.

  Lortum didn't move. Not yet.

  Lupe cursed under her breath, a hoarse, breathless string of sound as she peeled herself out of the dent she'd created in the metal siding.

  "I'm… fine!" she shouted, though her voice wavered. "Just -ow- he hits hard."

  Lortum didn't respond. He wasn't listening to her. His focus had narrowed entirely to the thing, which was now screaming in agony, as it stumbled around the place. His limbs bulged, tendons twisting under the skin like ropes pulled too tight. The veins along his neck and arms were no longer just black... They were thick, pulsing, and glowing brightly enough to make up for the destroyed flashlight.

  'Grudge.' Thought Lortum.

  It radiated off him in waves, a nauseating pressure that only Lortum could truly perceive.

  The man's back split open for a heartbeat, flesh stretching unnaturally before snapping back into place. Bone cracked and reformed beneath that ruined skin. Fingernails elongated. Teeth sharpened.

  Lupe pushed off the metal siding, limping slightly. But otherwise showing no signs of injury. "What's happening to the thug?"

  "I don't know." He said, "...But he might. Try to keep him alive."

  The creature let out a ragged scream and lunged towards the rafters, scaling them with claws that hadn't existed a minute earlier. The metal groaned under his weight.

  Lupe cursed. "'Him'? I don't know about you but I think the guys probably dead... And unfortunately for him, a Jinn took refuge in his corpse."

  It was a logical conclusion. But Lortum knew the truth. There wasn't, nor is there a Jinn in this warehouse -besides himself of course-, and the creature in front of them was in fact still a human. Despite the fact that it had just sprouted bat wings, that is.