Revelation

"Um, excuse me," Issac mustered his composure and engaged the receptionist in hushed conversation, his voice laced with a bit of nervousness, "Could I make an appointment with Jerril, please?" The receptionist's eyes returned to Issac for a brief moment, and he felt as though her gaze seemingly penetrated his very soul. A flicker of curiosity danced across her features as she asked in a monotone voice. "May I have your name?"

"Issac," he replied, and with an elegant motion, the receptionist reached for the telephone, her gaze never leaving Issac's form. As she dialed the numbers, a sense of tension hung in the air. The rhythmic tone of the dialing echoed through the room, heightening the suspense.

After a brief conversation, the receptionist lowered the receiver, and with a graceful gesture, she pointed to an unassuming door tucked discreetly behind the reception desk. "Please, proceed through that door," she instructed, her voice a soft whisper, the weight of her words hanging in the air, lingering like an unspoken warning.

Issac's gaze flickered towards the door, his mind momentarily questioning the path he was about to embark upon. He hadn't even noticed its presence until the receptionist had directed his attention to it. His eyes shifted back to the receptionist, but her attention had already returned to a crossword puzzle, as if his existence had become inconsequential in an instant, and he couldn't help but let out a helpless sigh.

'Well, here goes nothing, I guess..' Issac muttered under his breath in an attempt to reassure himself, determination and trepidation coursing through his veins as he stepped forward, crossing the threshold towards the door that beckoned him into searching for answers.

His hand clasped the cold doorknob, twisting it with a mixture of anticipation and dread. The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit flight of stairs descending into darkness. A chill ran down Issac's spine, his heart pounding in his chest. Whatever answers awaited him, he knew he had to descend those stairs and confront whatever it was that awaited him in the depths below.

"Way to make it as comfortable as possible…." Issac murmured under his breath, a tinge of sarcasm lacing his words. He cast a fleeting glance back at the entrance of the shop, as if his body was providing his mind with one last chance to leave the shop, but the weight of the answers that were supposedly waiting for him down below propelled him. Steeling his resolve, he descended the stairs, each step resonating with a sense of purpose.

BAM!

With a resounding thud, the door closed behind him, sealing his fate. Issac turned back, his hand instinctively reaching for the doorknob, only to find it unyielding.

"Shit…" He cursed under his breath before shifting his focus down below, the dimly lit walls of the narrow pathway casting long shadows.

As he ventured further into the depths, the air grew heavy with a musty scent, tinged with a hint of something long forgotten. The flickering light of aged lamps illuminated the path. The walls bore the weight of history, their worn surfaces hinting at the untold stories that dwelled within.

Issac exhaled a steadying breath, his determination unyielding as each step carried him deeper into the unknown.

The flight of stairs ended abruptly, and gave way to a towering wooden door that commanded attention. Issac stared up and down at the door in front of him before taking a deep breath and extending his hand towards the door handle, gripping it tightly.

BZZZ!

As soon as he felt his hands envelop the door handle, a sudden burst of sound shattered the silence—an unexpected robotic voice announcing, "Fingerprint scan complete!"

"Woah! What the fuck?" Startled, Issac instinctively recoiled, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a cautious step back, his eyes fixated on the door handle, his brow furrowing with confusion.

The robotic voice continued its proclamation, breaking the tension with the declaration, "Identity confirmed. Welcome, Issac Volante."

WHOOSH!

In an astonishing display of technological prowess, the door, which had initially appeared to be crafted from wood, defied its nature and slid open horizontally, granting the ability to enter through the doorway. The sight caught Issac off guard, leaving him dumbfounded by the door's transformative method of opening.

"What in god's name..." Issac muttered under his breath, his mind racing with bewilderment as he cautiously stepped through the threshold, but the room that unfolded before his eyes shattered his expectations, for it bore no resemblance to the decrepit confines he had envisioned.

Instead, Issac found himself immersed in a world of sleek modernity and grandeur. The walls, finished in a lustrous shade of charcoal gray, were adorned with high-tech holographic screens, displaying intricate maps and surveillance feeds, while hidden lights, meticulously positioned along the edges of the ceiling, emitted a gentle radiance, casting a subtle illumination that accentuated the contours of the room,

Plush, ergonomic chairs were strategically placed in front of the holographic screens, offering an almost perfect seating experience. Each chair seemed to have been equipped with some sort of a built-in control panel, perhaps allowing the user to seamlessly interact with the holographic displays as well as providing access to a plethora of cutting-edge technology.

The state-of-the-art hunter training equipment gleamed in the corners, from virtual reality simulators that simulated high-stakes missions to precision shooting ranges equipped with AI-powered targets. The room seemed to be housing an arsenal of tools that are designed to hone the skills of elite operatives.

"Holy hell..." Issac's voice trailed off as he surveyed the room, his disbelief etched upon his face. The realization dawned upon him that this was no ordinary chamber concealed beneath a nondescript foot massage parlor.

"Welcome, Mr. Volante," A voice reverberated in Issac's ears, shattering the tranquility of the room. Startled, Issac's gaze darted around, only to be met by the sight of a man clad in a sleek black ensemble. Bald-headed, sporting a goatee, and donning sunglasses that concealed his eyes, the man exuded an air of authority and secrecy. A shiver ran down Issac's spine as he pondered how this mysterious figure had managed to approach him with such silent precision. The room had betrayed no hint of his presence, no audible footsteps or warning signs.

"Welcome to your briefing room," the man spoke with a disconcerting calmness, his voice carrying an undercurrent of authority. There was an unsettling air of familiarity in his tone, as though he had been expecting Issac's arrival all along. His eyes, concealed behind the tinted lenses, betrayed no emotion, leaving Issac to question the man's true intentions.

"My…. bri- briefing room?" Issac stammered, his mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of the situation. The notion that this room, with its cutting-edge technology and air of secrecy, was for him was beyond comprehension. The man in black offered no further explanation, his nod of respect cloaked in a veil of mystery. Frustration mingled with anticipation, fueling the fire of curiosity within Issac's chest.

"I'm sorry, but why do I have a briefing room?" he queried, his voice laced with confusion. The man's response, delivered in a monotone voice, provided little solace. "You'll be receiving orders from your boss," he stated matter-of-factly. The lack of elaboration left Issac in a state of bewilderment, his mind racing with questions and uncertainty.

Struggling to make sense of it all, Issac's frustration bubbled to the surface. "My boss? What do you mean by that?" he pressed, his voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and desperation. The man remained stoic, offering no further insight, leaving Issac to grapple with his mounting confusion. "Orders from my boss?" he repeated. "Who is my boss? What is happening here?"

"I'm your boss, kid." A familiar voice suddenly filled his ears, causing him to turn around in surprise. It was Mr. Bhryne standing there, seemingly unscathed. Issac's face lit up with relief. "Mr. Bhryne! You're alright!" he exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace his mentor. But to Issac's bewilderment, his arms passed right through Mr. Bhryne's figure. Confusion and surprise seized him, the realization sinking in that what he saw before him was not the flesh-and-blood presence of his mentor, but a mere illusion. His mind reeled with questions, his trust in this bewildering situation hanging in the balance.

Mr. Bhryne's holographic form spoke, his voice a soothing balm amidst the storm of uncertainty. "Rest assured, Issac," the holographic Mr. Bhryne conveyed, his tone filled with reassurance. "As I've conveyed in my message to you, you have nothing to worry about. You're safe."

A forced smile played on Issac's lips as he responded, his words tinged with both doubt and vulnerability. "I don't know if I can believe that, Mr. Bhryne..." he admitted. "Because right now, I don't feel safe at all."

Amidst the uncertainty, Mr. Bhryne's holographic form maintained his calm composure. "I know you have a lot of questions, kid," he acknowledged, his voice a gentle whisper. "And you're going to learn everything... Eventually." The weight of those words hung heavy in the air.

Arching an eyebrow, Issac listened intently as the hologram continued. "But for now, know this," Mr. Bhryne raised a finger, his words resonating with a blend of gravity and urgency. "Issac Volante, you are now going to be working for the National Intelligence Bureau, United Korea, and you might hold the answer to saving the entire human race."