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  *Tap, tap, tap*

  The footsteps of a middle-aged man echo through the hallway of the Facility. He looks up at the ceiling, wishing himself good luck. The wish, however, does not seem to banish his anxiety as he recalls the moment a few minutes ago when a "Prioritized Bcklist" entity was captured and isoted in a chamber. The good news is, there are no casualties. But of course, the Bad News outweighs the good news.

  How so?

  Well, he is about to re-impnt the description of what "Prioritized Bcklist" means in his brain, so let's have a look.

  The Hub, Ethereal, is a pce where everything on the internet can meet up with each other and live inside. Those who appear in any online media will have their real counterpart living normally in Ethereal.

  That means vilins, scums, and Japanese NTR Manga vilins live like a normal well-behavior citizen would, albeit with suspicious and threatening appearance.

  With that in mind, it make sense if someone says "Not everyone is allowed to enter nor live here."

  The reason why some fandoms or some characters are not allowed to enter or live in The Hub is because their world, their ideology, their behavior, their skills, or even themselves are the problem.

  For instance: The Man from Cruelty Squad.

  By the Researchers, the Engineers, and the Inventor, it is stated that the Man responsible for killing the entirety of his own world and rebuilding it is a highly dangerous entity. Dangerous is an understatement. A more threatening and impactful word is needed to describe how terrifying the man can be.

  Another thing the Researchers noted is that the Man's face is devoid of emotions. What he expresses is hopelessness. As he reached the peak of everything, he began to feel enclosed, trapped at the top of the universe's bracket transactions as the richest and most powerful man in his reality.

  If by any chance he found the Hub, there are a few options he can choose from. But, seeing just how deep he is in depression and trauma, many scientists see no way for him to make contact with people in the Hub through peace. They specute that once he arrives at Ethereal, he'll start bsting off pedestrians and doing a genocidal massacre, which will disrupt a city's district for a momentary notice.

  Toby Fort, the Field Agent, sighs and once again wishes for nothing but a good talk that will happen soon.

  He touches the door knob on his right, trembling for a second before opening it. Inside the room is a table, a pair of chairs, and a man with green eyegsses sitting patiently. The man he's about to interrogate is the exact man he was introduced to when he first checked the bcklist, the main character from Cruelty Squad.

  He has no name. Being unable to call someone with a name is irritating, so the executives decided to name him with his crossover counterpart's name: MT Foxtrot. The name has a hidden meaning, which represents the man's entire life.

  'MT Foxtrot. He is an MT Freak.' The Overwatch said, a month ago.

  Toby sits down in front of him. He id a clipboard on his right and began the interrogation.

  "Okay. So, this is the beginning of a talk with PoI-311, also known as MT Foxtrot. The date is 15 May 2024, first session."

  He said, complete with his right hand holding a ballpoint, writing on the clipboard.

  "Now, can you understand what I said? Lift your right hand if you do."

  The pink man raises his left hand, disobeying the agent in one way and obeying in another way.

  "Subject understands basic English nguage and has working ears."

  The man scribbles his pen on the clipboard again, looking at it before handing out a pen and a book to the PoI. Then, he gazes up at the PoI's face.

  "I am here to ask you several questions. Your answer and action will determine how you will be treated. So,"

  He taps the paper and retracts his left arm.

  "We both cooperate, and you'll get a nice bed. You are clear to answer on the paper."

  The PoI, Foxtrot, grabbed the pen and readied his right hand. He's good at answering some surveys from his captive.

  "Alright, can you tell me how you ended up here?"

  The scratching of a pen can be heard from Foxtrot's side. He seems pretty fixated at the moment, as if he's willing to do anything as long as he gets to enjoy a simple thing.

  'I don't know how. I found a divine door that I had never discovered before, so I entered it. And somehow, I woke up on someone's balcony.'

  He said this through the book he had seen by Toby. The agent ticks a box on the clipboard and continues the interrogation.

  A few barrage of questions afterward, and the interrogator grew tired. It has been 15 minutes filled with ticking boxes. He admits he's quite interested in knowing the PoI's backstory, but this kind of duty isn't for his taste. So, since lunchtime is getting close, he skips the next 16 questions and jumps straight to the second-to-st question.

  "Have you lost hope before?"

  The sudden question shudders the PoI, who reminisces about a traumatic and distressed moment when he could not do anything but accept his repetitive, isoted, and monotone life cycle. He had gained everything, yet he felt empty. He holds immense power, yet nothing seems to matter. Everyone's life value is so cheap, to the point that immortality is a joke.

  If a person dies, and they wish to live again, they will be recombined. As long as they have money, they will always come back.

  Transaction is everywhere.Finance is all around the universe.Life, Death, and Transaction. The trio supports the crumbling universe.

  He died numerous times. But he was recombined, his sense dulled. Once Divine, now a flesh of Misery. Then, he discovered Archon Grid. Found a Divine link and defeated a flower.He thought he got out of the life cycle. Oh ho, no no. He never will.

  "The past is ever-present." A triagon said when he entered a rge ft existence pne after defeating the flower. The sun smiles with malice.

  "I weep." The door he'd found inside his workpce's building's basement. "You are a rotten husk. You overflowed with boundless power."The door had a sign"Life" above its eyes and mouth."Your friends are in hell, yet you smile." The door smiles. "Only good things will come to someone like you."The pulsating nerves around it beat. "Set goals. Have a ten-year pn. Invest. Wake up early. CEO mindset."It bids farewell. "Good Luck."

  Then, he looked for the Cradle of Life.He had nothing to lose as his hope had been lost.He wished for one thing eternally.

  Death.

  So, he touched the crimson sphere and disappeared into a dark, grim mix of reality. Everyone in the universe walks alongside him toward Death in unison.They do not wish for a life anymore.They wish an eternal death.Their life is cheap.They know it. They do not want to be rebuilt or recombined.They want to rest.

  rest...rest...

  restrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrestrest

  *SNAP!*

  A loud finger snap wakes him up from his nightmare daydream. He forgot about the interrogation. He grips the pen and writes down an answer.

  'Get me out of there.'

  Toby was shocked to hear this answer. Now, everything seems to be going easy for him.

  "That was unexpected. Good thing. Last question."

  He stares the PoI in the eyes.

  "Do you want to lie down in a bed or watch over the flesh rats and flush them out to the drainage?"

  There is one eternal hate he has for the flesh rats. And that is how annoying they are and how scary they are when he's not with his life sensor impnt. So, he scribbles down in the book.

  'The tter.'

  "Alright then, all set. Session over."

  Toby ends the interrogation and turns off the recorder after carefully pressing the end record button. Now that the heavy-weighted stuff is over, time to chill out with the PoI. He often does this with inmates who have had past interrogations. He pulled out a box of cigarettes and handed one to the PoI, lighting his own before pcing the lighter on the table.

  "Smoke that, the higher-ups know you have a f*cked up life." He said, looking at Foxtrot carefully lifting the cigarette to his mouth, like a teenager trying his first smoke. Toby helps him light up the smoke. Now, both of them are seen enjoying a rexing man-to-man moment.

  "So, you agree to work under our organization, THC. But I assure you you'll be treated nicely here, " the agent said with complete confidence and an air of freshness. You don't need to worry; this is not a dystopian society. I'd wish to die too, if I were in one."

  He sounds honest, even disgusted. "To be fair, working under a PMC only to find that you're not in control sucks ass." With a grin, he proudly mentions his job. "Gd my workers paid me well."

  The PoI looked distrustful, but he ended up believing the agent's words. As a mercenary, he understands how his interrogator feels if he were in his shoes. He wonders how good and nice the world he currently resides.

  *Knock knock knock*

  "Mister Fort? I'm here to pick up Mister Foxtrot."

  The door opens, revealing a dy dressed in white office clothes carrying a box full of daily necessities.

  "That's your call. Hey, how 'bout we go to your room together? I'll pass by afterward, gonna get a bite on my lunch."

  The agent said in a friendly tone, viewing the PoI as another friend in the PMCs' matter. So, he treated him like his own pal. Foxtrot likes how he talks, too, and they both seem to have formed a strong battle-buddy bond.

  "So, how's that?"

  The pink man nods, walking outside the room accompanied by two THC personnel.

  ----------------------------------------------------------------

  A few days ago, a soldier was enlisted into the MPS society, right in front of the Factory.

  In the span of three work days, everyone was caught off guard, amazed. The soldier managed to capture two HVTs without much scratch. They'd believe the process was like a walk in the park until a team of Directors, consisting of two key figures, viewed his bodycam footage.Not only did he survive numerous attacks from spine-chilling monsters and rge-scale threatening entities, but he carried the mission successfully and came out okay.

  The fourth division's elites, the high-ranking enforcers of the MPS society, sought valid information. They thought the soldier was dealing with generic zombies and the like. Unfortunately for them, the things the soldier fought weren't something to joke about.

  Giant spiders, suicidal-bloodied people with bags on their heads, books as some of their heads, females with sharp needle limbs, infant-sized explosive monsters, humanoids with rocky growth on their skin, a giant body-less head, a mutated buff monster wielding an axe, an intelligent human being with scathed and broken face carrying armaments, and more.

  Respect grew among the Factory's inhabitants, especially from the lower-css Division 4. A few of the recruits start idolizing the soldier, others take notes on how the soldier completes the mission.

  ...

  "What an unfun guy."

  And that synthesized voice belongs to another super-soldier joining the MPS Society not so long ago, reading a personnel file.

  White-colored reinforced full-body armor with a turtleneck, jackboots, a single red eye, and two skull insignias on the chest and his left arm. The chest one is bck, while the other is a white variant with bels below.

  ['Null - 3650']

  "That guy probably only knows how to ruin a party." He said, returning the file to the archiver.

  "Well, if he can complete that kind of mission without getting hurt, he's allowed to do that." The archiver jokes, causing the recruit to snicker.

  "So, if I finished one hell of a task and survived, will I be allowed to spray goo all over the break room?"

  "That... I have no comment."

  "Knew it."

  The archiver continues sorting out files into one of the countless drawers, and the edge of his eyes caught a glimpse of the recruit.

  "Oy, cyclo- I mean 3650!"

  With a growl, 3650 answers. "Ugh. What is it, nerd?"

  "Care for a lunch after your first mission?"

  "Command says no."

  "Who the hell ordered not to? Monica?"

  "My consciousness, moron. You said you do psychology, you seem incapable of doing so with me."

  "And here I thought you'd get softer after all that bros talk."

  "Eh, been persuaded once. I'm not dealing with another annoying company."

  "Now I'm curious. See ya, cyclops!"

  The Combine Elite leaves the Assets Archive room into the hallway, heading to District 4's building. There are not many people around, aside from the office people working under their supervisors who are the higher-ranked District 2 personnel. It feels nice, considering today is his first day of work in this schematic organization. He rides the elevator to go to the third floor, heading down the hallway before reaching a door. A sign above it reads "Alpha Containment Cell".

  "This must be it."

  He opens the door and sees a guard holding a cup of coffee. He seems like a senior. As he enters, the guard notices his appearance and greets him in a cssic rigid manner.

  "Hello."

  "Uhh, hi."

  "You're 3650, correct?"

  "Yeah, what is it?"

  "We got two hostages in two of these cells. You're called here to do something."

  "And?"

  The guard took a meaningful sip while the bad cop stares at his cup bnkly with his singur robotic eye.

  "We just need you to break them down mentally."

  "You mean... I only need to torture them?"

  "Yes."

  "That's a piece of cake. But it's boring. I thought I'd get a more eventful task on the first day."

  3650 commented. While he doesn't express anything, his body nguage was understood nicely by the guard. The tter held his hand onto the first's shoulder, comforting him.

  "You'll get your eventful task eventually. Now, get in."

  Obediently like a machine, 3650 enters the first cell beled 'A-010'. He sits down on the chair near the iron table of the cell, nonchantly. The inmate of the cell stares at him with distraught. A man sitting in the corner, baggy eyes, gray hoodie, and a book. Somehow, the book was there, unconfiscated. He asked to the people on the other side of the one-way gss and all they have to say was the book being unable to be removed from the cell. So instead, they chose to kept it close to him. So far, no attempt of escape has been made. Good.

  So, he starts his torture disguised as an interrogation.

  "Nice to meet you, Simon Henrikkson. Can I ask you a few things?"

  As he usually do when he was once a warden.

  Nolff