Chapter 1: Dismissal was the fatal flaw
Mike Mitchels awoke to the sounds of thrashing and scratching from the room below him. It was being renovated for business purposes. Mike had finally got a job working for the FBI raid unit after all and to him, it was only natural to dedicate one room to the job. The whole thing was puzzling though, he was sure he had failed the multiple exams that were given to him during his trial. Perhaps someone wanted him on the job was what Mike wanted to believe, but his life had been hell so far, why on earth would heaven suddenly take his side? It has seemed almost too suspicious, but to remain inconspicuous about the whole subject would slowly drive him insane. He decided to drop the thoughts flooding his head and turned to analyze the room he had woken up in.
The room was small and cramped, the walls old, as wear and tear had run them down drastically over the years. Despite the damage inflicted upon the walls, the blue pigment was still visible. The house was an antique. It was passed down from generations before Mike's time, though he was never too interested in the details. The clock on the left read 09:30, This was exactly 30 minutes after his alarm clock was set to ring. Mike had assumed he didn't hear it due to the loud noises the workers had made. The gold shimmer of the clock made guests think he was wealthy, but they were incredibly wrong. He was quite the opposite. Poor and miserable, but at first glance, you wouldn't exactly notice such a buried issue. It does explain his unfortunate economic situation though. Beside the clock was the drawer which held all of Mike's belongings, which wasn't many, He was hoping to ditch the place for his office in FBI headquarters, but it would take at least a month to secure a place there, after all, he needed to be sure he wasn't going to get fired by his first official case. Due to his optimistic personality, he paid most of the money he had left in his savings just to renovate his closet into a study for his newfound job. Mike decided to stand up to slowly make his way into his bathroom. The mirror stood large and Mike's reflection caught his attention.
Mike was presumptuous and due to this, he was seen as harsh to anyone who knew him. He didn't own many pictures of himself so seeing him in the mirror always gave him quite a shock. His eyes were hazelnut brown and glinted orange in the sun. Hair dark brown with a light-colored fade near the roots. His cascading hairline was quite an interesting development during his older years as they tend to rise over time. Mike was a C- rank raider, which meant that he had some unique abilities but they were never enough for him to do things on his own. The world went downhill when raids suddenly started to appear all around the world. The raider ranks varied from S+ to F- but Mike had only ever met people between the F-B category. Mike wanted to forget about the raids but it seemed he never could. They always followed him like a shadow he could not remove. The raids have left an indelible mark on Mike as he remembers vaguely his high-school crush dying in a school clean-up mission.
He gave a tenuous smile to himself as he remembered the time his high-school crush told him he was absolutely hideous. Mike's issue was his undying trust in a person. This made him trust everyone, a humongous flaw for someone who is soon to be a raid criminal investigator. This would often lead to horrible betrayals. His clothes were rudimentary and tight-fitting. His wallet wasn't exactly the heaviest so he wore whatever he could afford, such as clothes intended for recycling. Mike's only expensive piece of clothing was an old trench coat he had discovered when he inherited the house in 2005. It was now 3 years since that period but the memory never faded. He kept the coat pristine. Almost like a diamond in a pile of hay, unexpected and treasured. To not devalue the price of the coat he has never worn it between the 3 years it was in his possession.
Mike felt a slight vibration within his pocket. instinctively, he put his hand towards the source of the vibration, fumbling until he reached it. The source was a phone, a birthday gift given to Mike by his older sister. It was evident that Mike's sister did not get along well with him. The gift was given to appease the family audience rather than a sentimental one. The screen lit up as a number flashed. The number had been saved in Mike's phone as "Fbi raids Employer."
With haste, Mike answered the call.
"Hello, this is agent Blake calling to remind Mike Mitchels about his employment in the FBI raids unit, the meeting at HQ will be at 10:15. Please be swift and try to arrive before the time instructed to get acquainted with the personnel in your faculty."
"Ah yes, thank you!"
The phone went blank
"Agent Blake?"
Mike looked down at his phone to see that the agent had hung up. He sighed.
"It seems they already don't like me" Mike laughed to himself responding that he was certain he didn't pass the exam. Mike bets they think he paid my way into the job.
The watch on Mike's hand read 9:47 least he had enough time to arrive by bus and not be late. He did wish they had called earlier though. By leaving the call for so long he couldn't help but imagine them disliking him. Mike's optimism challenged his views on the matter and he persuaded himself that he was imagining the hatred in the agent's voice.
Mike slowly left his bathroom reading off his phone the next time a bus would arrive. The website stated that the bus would come shortly around 9:55 Maybe luck is on Mike's side today after all the bus stop was right outside his house and he hadn't heard any busses pass confirming he hadn't missed it. The stairs down were obnoxiously long, sometimes Mike felt as though he was stuck in an unending paradox, encased by the precise railing beside him. Mike could get splinters if his hand trailed on the railing for too long, the pain inflicted on him sometimes brought him back into the right mindset. Mike averted his eyes before he got lost in thought. The paintings on the walls aided Mike's descent toward the main exit. The paint was incredibly worn out and in need of a redesign. Mike, however, did not complain.
The paintings were quite captivating. Abstract art always had a place in Mike's heart, the vintage paint only added to the unique nature of the pictures before him. Mike was so in his world that he had barely noticed the staircase reaching its end. He wanted to feel bravery, but for whatever reason, he was incapable of feeling it. He knew something about his job seemed sketchy, but he couldn't waste any time wondering what if's. The hallway towards the main exit was quite small. Despite its minuscule appearance, Mike was always in awe after walking down the hallway. It gave him a weird sense of comfort. Mike wondered if it was due to the house's age. He did inherit the house from his father after all. During his youth Mike hated the house, it was filled with horrid memories for Mike. His family wasn't very supportive of his life choices, they didn't exactly enjoy what the Raiders do. You could assume what Mike had to go through.
The door towered over him like a predator trapping its prey. Perhaps Mike would've once believed that's exactly what the door was doing. But now? He had grown used to the feeling of imprisonment that it no longer scared him. Mike made a final turn on the rusty metallic door knob. It flung open as if it was trying to tell the world of the secrets buried within the rotting bricks of the foundation. If the walls were able to speak, Mike could imagine the number of apologies they would mutter to him. Back then he was lost and slowly losing reality, it didn't help to be the laughingstock in every school he went to.
Thinking about all this trauma made him sick. He closed the door behind him trapping his dark thoughts inside. They deserved to be rotting away in there, alone and starved of attention. Instead, he should be focusing on the bus stop in front of him. It was practically begging for him to step foot toward it.
His thoughts were interrupted abruptly as the bus suddenly turned the corner. The bus had an abundance of colors, it was ablaze and brash; almost ironic. His life was about to spiral into an abyssal hell and the thing that takes him to his doom is a chintzy bus. The ride to FBI Hq made time feel like it was pointless. Mike tried to shoo away his cursed thoughts only for them to be swallowed up again. He wondered if the colors on the bus represented the passenger's emotions, it was quite a stretch but it wasn't impossible. Perhaps his impulsive thoughts were driven by a sense of uncertainty on the bus.
He looked down at the watch which now read 10:03. Mike wasn't sure when it had started but across the city, relentless rain hammered from the sky and veered the people without cover. The rain was swallowing the city as if everyone was trapped in its misery. Perhaps even mother nature was warning him that going down this current path would truly lead to his downfall. High above, murky fog hovered in the daylight ominously, covering the sky with a semi-permanent veil; It was apparent that heaven had decided to put up a transparent wall to shun us for the day ahead. The overcast in the sky made some of the natural light unable to penetrate through the delicate wall. The only sound Mike could hear on the bus was the rain pelting across the already damp streets and hitting off any surface it could find. Mike's unwavering eyes observed the streets overlooking the city before him. It was truly beautiful. Mike was slowly approaching his destination, FBI headquarters. He was finally starting to feel ready for the long day ahead. If it was up to Mike, he probably would've stopped by a coffee shop on his way in an attempt to wake up but due to the unfortunate timing of his meeting, he was unable to do so. Mike looked down at the surface of his tattered watch as he carefully got off the bus and started surveying the building before him.
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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