The five agents rushed down the corridor, rounding the corner to find the boys standing quietly in front of the evidence room like two obedient soldiers awaiting inspection.

The moment the agents appeared, Samuel and Danny stood straight and saluted sharply.

"Welcome, Agents!" they called in unison.

Agent Vick stepped forward quickly, scanning both of them head to toe for any signs of contamination or instability.

"Are you both feeling alright? Any dizziness? Shortness of breath? Tightness in the chest? Nausea?" he fired off his questions in rapid bursts while the other agents watched them closely, studying their expressions for even a flicker of abnormality.

"We're okay, sir. Nothing wrong with us," they replied again in perfect unison, followed by another salute.

Agent Vick sighed in relief, releasing the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Then explain this," he said, tone tight. "Why did you enter the evidence room without following protection protocol?"

Samuel frowned slightly. "Protection protocol? No one told us we needed any."

He turned to Danny, then back to Vick.

"Agent Nick just told us this would be our worksite for the week. Said we'd be organizing the archived data. So… we just came down."

Danny added, "Yeah, but… sir, why do we need protection to go in? What kind of protection?"

Vick narrowed his eyes. "How did you even get in? That door requires access clearance."

Samuel scratched his head. "Yesterday, when we visited the data center, Agent Nick recorded our palm prints. I figured since the room was assigned to us, the system would be updated. So I tried my palm on the scanner—and it worked."

The agents exchanged uneasy glances. Angela folded her arms across her chest. No one said it aloud, but they all understood: Agent Nick had deliberately omitted critical information. A trap, disguised as an assignment.

Thankfully, it hadn't worked.

No one called it out yet—but the air was thick with it.

Vick exhaled and steadied himself.

"Let me explain this as clearly as I can. The evidence room contains the highest concentration of cursed and demonic objects we've recovered. Negative energy saturates every corner of it. You don't enter unprotected. Ever."

He pointed to the door beside them. "The protective suits are in the chamber next door. Standard procedure is thirty minutes per session inside—with the suit. When you exit, you take a saltwater cleansing shower before you can re-enter. Max work time is five hours per day, spaced out. That's not a suggestion—it's law."

Danny blinked. "Sir, may I ask... why saltwater?"

Vick snapped. "Because that room is filled with spiritual toxins. People have passed out in minutes. You're lucky you called me when you did—if you stayed longer than ten minutes..."

Danny looked sideways.

"We were probably inside for thirty… maybe forty minutes?"

Silence dropped like an anvil.

Angela's expression froze. Zack looked stunned. Michael stopped breathing.

"Thirty to forty minutes?" Vick whispered, stunned. "Unprotected?"

Samuel spoke carefully. "Sir… if you're worried about the room, I think we can put that fear to rest."

Vick turned sharply. "Explain."

Samuel folded his arms casually. "The demonic remnants, the cursed objects, the negative aura? All gone. The room's been cleansed."

Angela snapped, "Don't joke."

He looked at her earnestly. "No joke. We purified the objects. Banished seventeen remnant souls. Then I activated a hell-purging array that vacuumed every trace of lingering negative energy into my Hell Order interface."

The agents looked like they'd been told gravity no longer applied.

Angela's voice trembled. "You understand how absurd that sounds? Dozens of expert exorcists, elite spellcasters, even saints—we've all tried. We couldn't cleanse that room. We barely managed to seal the energy in place. And you're saying... you did it in thirty minutes?"

Agent Vick didn't respond immediately.

Instead, he turned to Jones.

"Suit up. Go check it."

Angela spun to him, incredulous. "Chief! You know Agent Jones can't see anything in that room due to his condition!"

"I know," Vick said calmly. "That's why I'm sending him. If the room really has been cleanse, everything should be visible to him. Apart from that, if anything left in that room... he can double check with his sense of taste too."

Agent Jones groaned softly. "Ugh... I just had a heavy breakfast…"

He muttered under his breath, "This is gonna ruin eggs for me forever."

"Zack," he called, "grab me a vomit bag, will ya?"

Agent Zack nodded and sprinted off. Meanwhile, Jones entered the prep room next door to begin suiting up.

Vick leaned in close to Michael, voice low. "I want you in the data room. Find the timestamp on when Nick logged those palm scans. Screenshot it. Email it to me. Then find out where Nick is now—quietly. Do not alert him. Don't let him smell a thing."

Michael nodded and left without a sound.

Angela turned back toward the boys, still standing there awkwardly.

Samuel's eyes glazed slightly as he connected inward.

"Hell Order. Confirm something for me. Is it true regular people can't survive inside the room without suits?"

"Affirmative. An unprotected human will begin aura degradation within two minutes. Protective suit grants resistance for thirty minutes per exposure cycle."

Vick stepped in again.

"Also—when someone is talking to you, don't have mental conversations in front of them. It's rude."

Angela frowned. "Wait… what did you just say?"

Vick gave a dry smile. "They're telepathic."

Angela stared at him. "You've got to be kidding."

Vick turned back to the boys. "So. How confident are you in your cleansing? Realistically."

Samuel gave a hesitant grin.

"Would you believe me if I said… one hundred percent?"

Just then, Agent Jones stepped out of the prep room, now fully suited up like a man entering a biohazard site.

Angela pulled out her phone.

"Do you have your wireless earpiece?" she asked.

Jones nodded and adjusted it into his ear.

"I'll call you now," Angela said. "Keep your phone on you inside. You'll be on loudspeaker. If anything feels wrong—say it. Do not push yourself."

Jones gave a thumbs-up, then accepted a second bag from Zack—one strapped across his face just in case he had to vomit mid-analysis.

Angela swiped her hand across the scanner.

Click.

The evidence room locks disengaged.

Jones stepped forward.

To Be Continued.