Everybody here loves you. Remember that.

You were laid off your job, surviving on scraps, little bits of money you had saved for the future, for almost a month. And that was slowly draining too. You didn’t believe in fate or any of that, but finding this poster in your mail? That wasn’t a coincidence.

Lost? Lonely? Poor? Confused? We want YOU!

You’ve been all of those for a while now. And you were desperate above all the adjectives on that paper. That was the reason you look it in the first place. Silly, foolish you.

You still feel the ache of the screws in your skull from where they were drilled onto you to hold your night vision goggles on. You remember throwing up when they brought you down to that… place. They laughed at that, too. Dead bodies, the goggles on your head having just been screwed onto someone else’s head before they went to you.

You woke up with the instructions to get rid of your old life. That entire thing, you felt numb. You did as you were told, more afraid of death than those things you had to hide from. Even when watching your personal records be shredded into nothing, watching all you built slip away, you didn’t feel anything.

It only hit you when you were brought to the facility. You got a cell—a monk’s cell, as that Doctor Easterman figure had called it—and a few decoration choices.

You fought tooth and nail for a good two months there. You cried, you got hurt, you had to be carefully tended to when almost dead once, list goes on. You weren’t made for this, but reshaped? Oh, yes.

You climbed the hierarchy with determination after the first month of giving it mediocre performance. You started remembering patterns in trials, getting to know the things chasing you, known as Prime Assets, on a different, psychological level. You were climbing, getting higher every single day, and your fingertips were almost grasping the stars.

Exiting another trial to get your grade, seeing another A+ flash on the little monitor, you felt at peace. It was worth it to suffer again. Not because the A+’s looked good—no. There was more to it.

Like clockwork, his voice fills the quiet room. “Excellent work. Just… magnificent. You are a diamond in the rough, my friend. At this rate, someone’s going to become teacher’s pet if they’re not careful.” He praised, like all the time. “Go on, back to the sleep room. Keep impressing me, my little how-high. I might have to talk to you in person if you continue exceeding my every expectation like this.” He added, and the shuttle opened for you.

Now that, right there? That was worth it. Worth the blood, sweat and tears that hid behind every A+ on every trial difficulty. His words are what drove you to be your best, and this offer, in-person meeting? You wanted that, bad. You’d do anything for it.