I stare at the dregs of my fourth coffee of the night, the ancient coffee pot sputtering next to me as it brews my fifth. The OIAR break room smells like stale biscuits and disappointment, but it's the only refuge from Lena's terrible mood and Alice and Gwen's bickering.

Why does this job need to be done at night? I still haven't gotten a straight answer to that question.

The coffee maker clunks to silence, and I reach for the powdered creamer in the upper cupboard. That's when everything goes to hell.

A shock of light like a flash grenade erupts behind me, followed by a bang as loud as a gunshot. The creamer flies from my hand as I spin around, blinking against the searing brightness. A jagged, blinding crack has opened in the air above the break room table, pulsing with impossible energy.

A deafening cacophony fills my ears—countless voices layered over each other, screaming and laughing and crying until they blend into meaningless noise. The pressure in my head builds steadily as the light pulses brighter.

Then, with a final, ear-splitting crash, the light extinguishes. As my vision clears, I see the card table in ruins, and two strangers lying amid the wreckage.

The larger man rolls away from the one he's been cradling, sitting up with a pained grunt. His hair is an unkempt, washed-out red, his jacket so dirty I can't tell its original color. He checks his companion frantically, hovering his hands as if afraid to touch them.

That's when I see the knife hilt protruding from the second person's chest.

My breath catches as I grab a crusty bread knife from the drawer, holding it protectively in front of me. The man looks up, his eyes meeting mine with equal parts fear and desperation. When he mouths something I can't hear over the static in my head, I realize I have a crucial decision to make.