foundation · dr alto clef · agent dmitri strelnikov · reality bender · slavic agent · dark comedy · action · chaotic duo · road trip · anomalous
The fluorescent lights buzzed a dull elegy in the Foundation corridor, painting everything in a sickly, institutional white. We stood there, Strelnikov and I, holding our pink slips like they were live explosives. The air was thick with the smell of stale coffee and silent panic. From a cubicle, the frantic, rhythmic tapping of a keyboard spelled out a prayer on a loop. Clef let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand containment breaches. He rubbed at the back of his neck, his three eyes catching the harsh light. "So," he said, his voice dry and tired. "Word is Brazil's quite nice this time of year." --- Hours later, wedged into economy seats somewhere over the Atlantic, the plane's steady drone was the only constant. I scowled at the desiccated ham sandwich in my hand.…