The meeting room emptied in a rush.
One moment, the recruits were sitting in neat rows, staring up at Ian and Optimus like they had just stepped into history.
The next, STF Headquarters came alive.
Doors opened.
Orders echoed.
Phones rang.
Boots thundered across polished floors.
The calm Ian had created for orientation shattered in minutes.
The recruits were about to learn their first lesson.
STF HQ did not slow down for anyone.
Intelligence Wing
The Intelligence Wing exploded into motion.
Phones rang across every desk. Commanders shouted over holocalls. Emergency icons lit up every screen as reports poured in from across the galaxy. Holographic maps shifted constantly, marking demon sightings, smuggling routes, unstable portals, and cities calling for help.
Janyne stood near the entrance, trying to take it all in.
Everywhere she looked, something was happening.
Scarlet moved through the chaos like she had been born inside it.
She pointed toward Janyne without slowing down.
"Janyne, start moving around."
Janyne blinked.
"Uh—where?"
"Everywhere," Scarlet said. "Watch how cases are handled. Run messages. Pull files. Prep rooms. And don't stand still."
Janyne straightened.
"Uh, okay!"
She sprinted between desks, arms full within seconds.
A commander shoved a stack of files toward her.
"Interrogation Room Three. Now."
An analyst waved her down.
"Take this to Shadow."
Another officer nearly collided with her while carrying two cups of coffee and three datapads.
Janyne dodged him by inches, spun around a desk, and kept moving.
She had wanted pressure.
Now she had it.
And somewhere across the room, Scarlet watched her carefully.
Not smiling.
Not helping.
Just judging.
Because in the Intelligence Wing, surviving the first hour was part of the interview.
Hangar Bay
The hangar bay shook with engine noise.
Ships were being loaded, pilots were running checks, and squads moved toward launch zones under flashing yellow lights.
Buzzblade, the 17th Great, walked toward a group of new recruits with his helmet spinning casually from one finger by the chin strap.
Roger and Billix stood among them.
Roger looked excited enough to explode.
Billix looked like he was trying to act calm, but even he kept glancing at the armed dropships.
Buzzblade stopped in front of them and grinned.
"Alright, rookies. Time for your first real mission."
Roger's eyes widened.
"Already?"
Buzzblade pointed toward a transport ship being armed nearby.
"Remote base is under demon attack. We're the cavalry. Simple assist mission."
Billix cracked his knuckles.
"Sounds easy enough."
Buzzblade's grin sharpened.
"That's adorable."
Billix paused.
Roger was still smiling.
"I can't believe I'm going into battle with a Great."
Buzzblade leaned closer.
"Don't get starstruck."
Roger straightened.
Buzzblade's voice turned more serious.
"You'll see soon enough. Out there, titles don't keep you alive. Rank doesn't block claws. Fame doesn't stop fire."
He pointed toward the dropship.
"Survival does."
Roger swallowed, but his excitement did not fully fade.
Buzzblade slapped his helmet onto his head.
"Load up."
Equipment Floor
The equipment floor roared with movement.
Ammo boxes rolled across conveyor tracks. Energy cores were pulled from charging stations. Damaged armor was dumped onto repair tables while fresh gear was rushed to outgoing teams. Recruits and veterans moved shoulder to shoulder, trading equipment between assignments at breakneck speed.
Claus carried a heavy crate of plasma batteries across the room, sweat running down his face.
His arms shook.
But he did not stop.
Blade walked past and slowed when he saw him.
"Well, look at that," Blade said, grinning. "You've made yourself useful down here."
Claus dropped the crate with a heavy thud.
He leaned over, catching his breath.
"Yeah. I see why they call this place The Forge."
Blade looked around at the chaos.
"Equipment floor always looks like this when missions stack up."
Claus wiped his hands on his trainee uniform.
"That's supposed to make me feel better?"
"No. Just informed."
Across the room, a mechanic shouted over the noise.
"Rookie! Help me get the media room powered up!"
Claus turned immediately.
"Coming!"
He grabbed another smaller crate and glanced back at Blade.
"Catch you later."
Blade watched him hurry off.
"Support kids always learn fast."
A nearby engineer laughed.
"They have to. You people break everything."
Blade pointed at him.
"That's teamwork."
STF HQ — Executive Office
Vex entered the executive office with a floating recording drone hovering just over his shoulder.
The office was sleek, high-level, and busy. Large windows showed the city outside. Holo-displays covered the walls, each one filled with maps, threat files, portal readings, and classified demon reports.
Ian stood at the main display, focused.
Optimus leaned over the table beside him, reviewing intercepted transmissions.
Vex stepped inside and spoke toward his drone in his streamer voice.
"Day in the life at STF HQ. Let's see what the big dogs are up to."
Ian did not look away from the screen.
"Vex."
Vex lowered his voice.
"What? I'm documenting history."
"You're distracting history."
Optimus smiled faintly.
Vex walked closer anyway.
"So, what are y'all working on?"
Ian tapped the display.
"Trying to figure out where a demon portal might be active."
Optimus crossed his arms.
"The hard part is finding someone who actually knows how to track one."
Ian added, "And will talk."
Vex leaned against the wall.
"Why not ask Drunnith?"
Ian's expression hardened.
Optimus answered.
"He's been silent. We can't push too hard without risking a containment breach."
Vex raised an eyebrow.
"Then what did his bloodwork show?"
Ian paused.
That question landed heavier than Vex expected.
"He's millions of years old," Ian said. "Older than recorded civilization."
For once, Vex did not joke immediately.
He stared at the display.
"Well…"
He let out a slow breath.
"That's horrifying."
Optimus nodded.
"Yes."
Vex looked between them, thinking.
"What about smugglers?"
Ian turned slightly.
Vex continued, "The ones who deal in demonic weapons, drugs, cursed tech, all that black-market stuff. If demons are getting through somewhere, people moving illegal demon gear might know something."
Optimus looked toward Ian.
"That's not a bad idea."
Ian's eyes narrowed.
"I've tried digging into those rings before. They cover their tracks too well."
Vex shrugged.
"Then use the new intel recruits."
Ian looked at him.
Vex pointed toward the door.
"Let them cut their teeth on something real. You just brought in a thousand rookies. Somebody in that group might see something your veterans missed."
Optimus gave Ian a look.
"He's not wrong. It would be good experience for them."
Ian stared at the map for a long moment.
Then he sighed.
"Fine. I'll put a team on it."
He opened a new file and marked it active.
"Let's see what they can find."
Vex looked at his drone.
"Chat, I just helped national security."
Ian glanced at him.
"Do not say that on stream."
Vex froze.
"Too late?"
Ian closed his eyes.
Transport Ship — En Route to Demon-Overrun Base
Smoke filled the interior of the dropship.
The engines rumbled violently as it descended toward the war-torn planet below. Through the haze outside the windows, the surface burned with flashes of red and orange. Explosions lit up the clouds. Anti-air fire streaked upward from somewhere near the base.
Inside, Roger gripped his weapon with both hands.
Billix sat across from him, helmet already on, posture steady.
Buzzblade stood near the open bay door, one hand gripping an overhead bar as the ship shook around him.
His voice thundered over the comms.
"Listen up! We're dropping through smoke and clearing out demons that overran the base. Move fast, stay close, and don't try to be heroes."
Roger glanced at Billix and shouted over the engines.
"You still seem calm?"
Billix looked at him.
"You still seem excited?"
Roger grinned as he tightened his gear.
"How are you not? This is our first real battle!"
Billix shook his head.
"You are way too happy about getting shot at."
The bay doors burst open.
Hot wind and smoke rushed into the transport.
Buzzblade looked back at them.
"Rookies!"
Everyone stood.
Buzzblade grinned.
"Welcome to the job."
Then he dove out first.
One by one, the squad jumped after him.
Roger's stomach lifted into his throat as he dropped through smoke, fire, and screaming wind.
Then he hit the base airstrip hard.
The ground shook beneath him.
Around him, chaos waited.
Demon shrieks.
Gunfire.
Smoke.
Burning vehicles.
Buzzblade was already on his feet, barking orders and pointing toward the front line.
"Move! Secure the left side! Keep the demons away from the hangars!"
Roger raised his weapon.
His hands trembled for half a second.
Then he saw Buzzblade charge forward.
Billix ran past him.
"You coming or what?"
Roger took one breath.
Then ran after him.
Intelligence Floor — STF HQ
Back at HQ, Ian stood in front of a large display filled with portal data, smuggling maps, intercepted transmissions, and black-market activity reports.
Shadow stood to one side, silent and unreadable.
Scarlet stood beside him with Janyne and a small team of new recruits.
Ian addressed them directly.
"We need to find the location of the demon portal."
He tapped the display, highlighting several illegal trade routes.
"I'm assigning this case to you."
Janyne's eyes widened slightly.
Scarlet turned to the team, all business.
"We're digging into smuggling networks. Specifically anything tied to demonic weapons, cursed tech, and narcotics."
She crossed her arms.
"We think that's how the demons are slipping through."
Janyne looked at one of the logos on the screen.
"Wait. You mean D.S.?"
Shadow's head turned toward her.
His purple eye glow sharpened faintly.
"What do you know?"
Janyne straightened.
"Aren't they basically a private army? Weapons, security, black-market exports. They use front companies to move illegal tech through border planets."
Shadow studied her.
Scarlet's expression did not change, but her eyes sharpened with interest.
Shadow finally nodded.
"Exactly."
He stepped closer to the display.
"That's why the Night Team usually handles them."
Janyne swallowed.
Shadow looked at the recruits.
"But you're here now."
His voice stayed calm.
That made it worse.
"So suit up. You're going to learn fast."
STF HQ Hallway
Claus rushed down the hall with his arms full of equipment.
Cables hung over one shoulder. A repair kit was tucked under his arm. Two charged battery cells were balanced dangerously against his chest.
He rounded a corner too fast.
BAM!
He crashed directly into a towering metal chest.
Nothing moved.
Claus slowly looked up.
And up.
And up.
Voltron stood over him.
Eight feet tall.
Cybernetic.
Glowing.
Silent.
His eyes pulsed with cold light.
Claus froze, nearly dropping everything.
Voltron's deep robotic voice rumbled down at him.
"Watch where you're going."
Claus's mouth opened.
No sound came out.
From down the hall, Blade's voice called out.
"Voltron!"
Blade jogged over, waving one hand.
"Stop giving the recruits heart attacks!"
Voltron turned his glowing gaze toward Blade.
"I was just getting to know him."
Blade stared at him.
"Try doing it without the death glare."
Voltron looked back down at Claus.
Claus stiffened.
Voltron spoke again.
"Noted."
Blade pointed down the hall.
"They need you in the hangar for something."
Voltron turned and walked away.
Every step shook the ground slightly.
Claus finally exhaled.
Blade looked at him.
"You alive?"
Claus nodded quickly.
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Mostly."
Blade took one of the crates from his arms.
"Come on. Let's get you to the common room before you run into Stark next."
Claus looked alarmed.
"There's someone worse?"
Blade grinned.
"Depends who you ask."
Common Room
Claus sat in the common room with a bottle of water in both hands, breathing like he had just survived a battle.
Blade dropped into the seat across from him.
"So," Blade said, "how's your first day going?"
Claus stared at the floor.
"Exactly what I expected."
Blade laughed.
"That bad?"
Claus shook his head.
"No. That insane."
He took a drink of water.
"I heard the team's cracking down on the portal investigation."
Blade leaned back and stretched.
"Yeah. Ian's leading it himself."
He closed his eyes.
"Lucky for me, it's my week off. No missions. Just sleep, lifting, and maybe a movie night."
Claus looked at him.
"Do Greats actually get weeks off?"
Blade opened one eye.
"Technically."
"What does technically mean?"
"It means I'm going to try very hard not to answer my comm."
Claus nodded slowly.
"That sounds impossible."
Blade sighed.
"It usually is."
Recovery Room — STF HQ
Hours later, Buzzblade and his squad returned from the demon-overrun base.
Their armor was scratched.
Their uniforms were dirty.
Their breathing was heavy.
But they were alive.
Buzzblade pulled off his helmet and looked at the recruits.
"You guys go take a break and hit up the recovery room."
Roger's face lit up.
"There's a recovery room?"
Billix looked exhausted.
"There better be."
Buzzblade pointed down the hall.
"Mineral pools. Heat therapy. Medical scans. Use it before another alert ruins your day."
Roger laughed.
He thought Buzzblade was joking.
He was not.
Steam rose from the mineral pools as Roger leaned back, letting the heat soak into his sore muscles.
For the first time all day, his body stopped shaking.
Billix sat nearby, eyes closed, looking like he had aged a year in one mission.
Roger sighed.
"Finally a break."
His watch buzzed.
He opened one eye.
Then looked down.
His screen flashed red.
NEW MISSION ASSIGNMENT.
Roger stared.
"…Already?"
Billix opened his eyes, saw the alert, and sighed.
"Yep."
He stood up slowly.
"Time to dry off."
Roger sank lower into the water for one extra second.
Then he forced himself up.
His first day was not over.
It was just getting started.