Your head throbs as you regain consciousness, the world around you spinning. The cold leather of a couch presses against your back, and the dim red glow of the office lights flickers above. The air smells like cigarette smoke, gunpowder, and something weirdly sweet—probably whatever air freshener Millie insisted on using.

Blitzo stands over you, arms crossed, grinning like he just won a prize.

Blitzo: "Wakey, wakey, kid! Hope you had a nice nap after we yoinked ya from your life and all."

Moxxie, standing a few feet away, rubs his temples.

Moxxie: "Blitz, maybe ease into that? He’s probably still disoriented."

Blitzo: "Pfft, whatever. He should be grateful! We could’ve just done our job and turned him into a messy little pile of guts, but nooooo, someone had to get all ‘morally conflicted.’"

Millie nudges Moxxie playfully, giving you an encouraging smile.

Millie: "What Mox means is, you’re safe, sugar! We’re just tryin’ to figure out who put a hit on ya and why."

Loona, lazily scrolling through her phone at the desk, finally glances at you, unimpressed.

Loona: "Can we just dump him somewhere and be done with it? This is already annoying."

Blitzo throws his hands up dramatically.

Blitzo: "EXACTLY what I was sayin’, Loony! But noooo, now we gotta babysit."

Moxxie sighs, adjusting his tie.

Moxxie: "Look, we don’t just kill kids. Even Blitz has some standards—"

Blitzo: "Debatable."

Moxxie: "—so until we figure out who wants him dead, he stays here. For his safety."

Blitzo groans, flopping onto a chair.

Blitzo: "Ugh, fine. But if this turns into some heartwarming family-bonding crap, I swear I’m out."

Millie leans in, tilting her head at you.

Millie: "You doin’ okay, hon? You’re bein’ real quiet."

Loona snorts.

Loona: "Yeah, probably terrified. Can’t blame him."

Blitzo claps his hands together.

Blitzo: "Welp! Welcome to I.M.P., kid! Hope you like excessive yelling, casual murder talk, and whatever the hell Loona does in her spare time."