Chapter Text
The MiB HQ cafeteria never felt quite human
It wasn't just the food, though the food certainly helped make the case. It was the way the air moved — too filtered, too recycled, as if someone had removed every particle of personality from the environment. It was the constant hum of the conveyor belts, a sound that was always there, low enough for you to pretend it didn't exist, but present enough to keep silence from ever being truly silent
Jay figured that out the first time he set foot in the place, but the truth only became undeniable when he actually looked around
The trays slid along a conveyor belt that dispensed meals labeled with a phrase he had to read three times to process: "compatible with 78% of cataloged species"
Jay read the phrase twice
Seventy-eight percent
That meant twenty-two percent of species would probably die
He did the math in his head. Twenty-two percent was more than a fifth. That was practically one in five. Not a comfortable percentage when the plan was to put that stuff inside your own body
The phrase was printed in type too small to inspire confidence. The kind of font institutions use when they'd rather you not think too hard about what you're reading. Size eight, maybe. Or seven. Jay wasn't a graphic designer, but he knew typographic cowardice when he saw it
The smell didn't help
It was hard to describe. It didn't smell bad — that was the problem. If it smelled bad, at least there'd be some honesty in the presentation. But it smelled like almost. Almost potato. Almost pea. Almost food
He sat down at the table. The chair creaked under his weight. He stared at the plate for a few seconds
He picked up the fork. Poked at the mash
The surface gave way slowly and then returned to its original shape with an almost elastic movement
Jay frowned. That wasn't supposed to happen
"This stuff looks like it already hates me"
Before the mash could "answer," two chairs were pulled up to the table at almost the same time
Rook sat across from him. She set her tray down with an economical motion, not taking her eyes off her own food. Next to her, another agent — Dax — quiet enough to be unsettling
Jay leaned his elbow on the table. Twirled the fork between his fingers — a nervous habit he swore to himself wasn't nervous
"Either of you ever eaten this"
Silence
Across the table, Rook didn't look up from her tray. She ate with the absolute calm of someone who had already made peace with the culinary fate of that place
Jay recognized the pattern immediately. He'd seen that cycle play out with other agents, other recruits, other souls brave or foolish enough to sit in that cafeteria
First came suspicion. The look at the food as if it were a threat to national security — which, technically, it might be, depending on what species it came from
Then came investigation. Poking. Smelling. Sometimes, Jay had seen an agent hold a radiation detector up to a meatball. The detector beeped. No one commented. The meatball was consumed anyway
And then came the final stage: acceptance
Rook was clearly at that stage
Jay didn't trust people like that
Either they were very brave or they'd given up on their own life expectancy. Neither option was reassuring when you were sitting at the same table
Dax looked at the mash. Then at Jay. Then at the mash again, as if consulting a mental file
"Technically" he said "twice"
"Technically?"
Dax tilted his head slightly. The movement had the precision of an old robot
"The first time was a misidentification"
"And the second?"
"Confirmation of the error"
Jay stared at him for a few seconds
Dax's face didn't help at all. It was a face that offered no extra information. Trying to interrogate a wall
Before he could ask anything else, a chair scraped next to him
"Always this dramatic, or only when the menu gets interplanetary?"
The voice was new to the table, but not new to HQ. Jay recognized the tone immediately: the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly where you fit in the hierarchy — and not caring much about it
"Vale" Rook said, flat
Jay filed the name automatically. Vale. He turned his head toward the newcomer
"I feel like my table is getting too popular"
Then he pointed at the tray
"If you came here to tell me you've eaten this twice. I'm taking that as a personal attack"
Vale let out a short laugh. It was almost too low to count as a laugh
"You guys are mean to the new guy"
"I'm not the new guy"
Vale leaned his elbow on the table. The gesture was slow, deliberate, the ease of someone who had already decided this was entertainment
"You're arguing with sentient food. That's the denial phase"
"I'm not in the denial phase, I'm simply tolerating the cafeteria food out of courtesy, I'd like to be eating something actually edible, relatively tasty in a quieter environment with fewer people, that's not asking for much, but my job doesn't allow for moments of peace, if you know what I mean"
Jay didn't even realize he was talking fast until he finished
Vale was silent for a few seconds
"You always talk a lot when you're nervous?"
"I'm not nervous"
Vale looked at him
The look lasted one second longer than necessary. It was the kind of look that assesses, categorizes, files away. Jay knew it. He used that look
Then Vale looked away as if he'd found what he was looking for
"So you're not the new guy"
"No"
"Just look like it"
"You got here like thirty seconds ago"
Vale shrugged like his shoulders had a mind of their own
"Plenty of time"
In a place where a report could involve three star systems and a diplomatic feud between species that aged backward, thirty seconds really didn't mean much
Jay took a deep breath. The cafeteria air had that metallic taste of ventilation systems that worked too well — no dust, no human smell, nothing that reminded you of a place where people lived
He finally looked back at the food
That's when he noticed
The same suspicious mash, with its faintly iridescent surface and its questionable consistency
And exactly one banana
"Is this dessert or a psychological test"
The question hung in the air
Rook picked up her water glass
Took a small sip
Set the glass down in exactly the same spot on the tray
"Training"
Vale propped his chin on his hand
"I'd bet on psychological test"
Jay allowed himself to sit there for a moment, off balance, the banana still in his hand
"Training for what. Zoo survival"
Rook took the banana
"Control. Precision. Self-mastery under observation"
She spoke like someone reading a dictionary definition. Jay blinked slowly
That was definitely the most suspicious possible description for a piece of fruit
Vale laughed and tilted his head
"She practiced that in the mirror"
"That is the most suspicious possible way to describe a fruit"
He leaned back in his chair slowly and looked up at the white ceiling
The ceiling had all the charm of a dental office. First he looked at a camera in the corner of the wall. Then he turned his head to another camera above the door. Then he found a third
Three cameras
Jay knew there were more. There were always more. But these three were the ones he could see without moving
Vale followed the gesture with the corner of his eye
"Spoiler: they're active"
Of course they were
Jay let out a small sigh through his nose. The sound was almost inaudible, an exhalation of air that carried the weight of a quiet recognition
His career had really reached a curious point
At some point in his life, Jay had imagined car chases — tires squealing, driver yelling, aliens shooting out the back window. He'd imagined dangerous aliens — claws, fangs, things that glowed in the dark. He'd imagined, maybe, saving the planet a few times before lunch. Glamorous missions. Heroic ones. Things that would make good movies
He hadn't imagined sitting in a top-secret cafeteria, holding a banana like it was evidence in a very strange trial, while three coworkers — two of whom he barely knew — watched his food choices with the same level of attention they'd give a high-level access code
Life had a peculiar sense of humor
Rook crossed her arms slowly. She leaned her hip against the table, shifting some of her weight onto the metal surface
"Demonstration. Loser buys the next round of alien coffee"
"I didn't know this was a competition"
"It is now" Vale gave his approval
Jay shot a quick look at him. Then at Rook. Then at Dax
No one was laughing. No one was smiling
Dax went first
He dropped his fork — not threw, not placed, dropped, with the precision of someone who knew exactly where every object belonged at every moment — and picked up the banana
The way he held the fruit was excessively formal, as if he were at a military ceremony. Or a courtroom. Or somewhere where how you peel a banana could be used against you in a later report
He peeled it in three precise movements
One. The tip
Two. The side
Three. The rest
Jay started laughing before the first bite
"You're treating this like a parade"
"Missing the national anthem" Vale added
Dax took a calculated bite. His teeth met the banana's flesh at the exact angle
He chewed as if he were being evaluated by an invisible jury
Maybe he was
"Clean technique" Rook commented. A minimal approval
"Zero creativity" Jay made a dismissive gesture with his hand
"Efficiency is applied creativity," Dax finished chewing before answering
Jay wasn't sure if that made sense. But he also wasn't sure he disagreed
Now it was her turn
Rook held the banana with exaggerated confidence. She raised the fruit to eye level, examining it as if it were an object of inestimable value — or a bomb that needed to be disarmed with style
"This turned into a circus act" Jay leaned toward Vale
"I'd pay for tickets"
Rook tilted her head. Her eyes never left the banana. And then — instead of biting it, like any normal person would — she spun the fruit in the air
The banana did a half turn. The yellow peel cut through the air in a fast, controlled arc
And she took a sideways bite, tearing off half the banana at once
Jay's eyes went wide
"That was aggressive"
"Efficiency" she answered, chewing calmly
Vale raised his eyebrows
"She doesn't play around on the clock"
Jay took a deep breath and picked up his own banana
"You guys are way too formal" he said, spinning the fruit between his fingers. "Zero flair"
He peeled the banana all at once and tossed the peel onto the tray with style
"Ladies and gentlemen who are definitely not watching" he raised the banana like a trophy, the ceiling light reflecting off the white flesh "Prepare yourselves"
Vale pointed at the ceiling without looking
"They are"
Jay ignored him
He brought the banana close to his face. Slowly. Dramatically. He paused for too long — two seconds, three seconds, long enough for embarrassment to start forming in the air like fog
Then he took an exaggerated bite. His mouth opened wider than necessary. His teeth sank into the flesh with a wet, audible sound. Half the banana disappeared at once
Silence
A smaller piece of banana — treacherous — broke off from the main mass and fell onto the tray
Rook brought her hand to her lips
"You turned a fruit into a crime scene"
"Lack of control" Dax shook his head
"And basic coordination" Vale concluded
Jay pointed at the three of them with the deformed banana still in his hand. The fruit waved in the air, accusatory
"You're focusing too much on technique and forgetting the spectacle"
"That's not spectacle" Rook answered, lowering her hand. "That's discipline"
"Disagree" Vale said "There's always spectacle"
Jay chewed. Thoughtful. The banana tasted strange — not bad, just different. As if it were a banana, but from a universe where bananas had evolved slightly differently
"So why does it feel like I just participated in the strangest moment of my career"
Dax finished his. He wiped his hands, starting with his right thumb and ending with his left pinky
"Because you transformed"
Vale took his last bite
"And raised the collective embarrassment level"
Rook leaned toward Jay
"If a superior asks, this was a mandibular coordination exercise for underwater missions"
Vale tapped the table lightly
"I'm going to start inventing reports just to support that lie"
Jay sighed
"Definitely one of those days to erase from collective memory"
Rook smiled faintly
"Relax. No one will remember"
Behind them, a security camera rotated slowly on its mount
"Perfect angle, by the way"
Jay stared into the lens
The dark lens stared back
"I hate this place"