A few days later, James - well, Silhouette at the moment - was back in his office, overseeing the recruitment of new personnel to Shades of Penumbra. But not inventors this time around, no, all of those he planned to hire had already officially joined the company, signed their contracts, and had joined Maggie in the creative division. No, this time around, he was here for more administrative staff. The increasing need for him to take a more active role in the defense of his interests once more further encouraged him to find a way to delegate most of his workload to other people, as well as assist his new team of tinkerers.

As he had told Maggie, inventors spent their time better by making stuff than managing paperwork, even if they had to do the bare minimum to keep track of their progress. The new staff would help streamline the process by turning these chicken scratches that served as reports into real documents that would be easier to check and compare. It wasn't just the creative division, either. The new staff would also be new employees in the job, to help customers and man the cash register, freeing up Larry and Barry's time. Mark and Jeffrey already had assistance with security thanks to the Infused, so their lives wouldn't be too different.

And there was also the issue of cleanliness. Not that the Penumbral Palace was dirty, far from it, since Mischief already took care of janitorial duties and maintenance, but... Well, Mischief had better things to do than that. The rat spies and scouts could be better used sneaking into the rest of the city and keeping an eye on things. So, janitors were needed. And, since James wasn't an idiot, he knew a good janitor was important, both in how well they did their job, but also in how trustworthy they were. A janitor would have almost unlimited access to most of the facility, and he couldn't afford to hire someone who could abuse this.

But, unlike when it came to the creators, James didn't have a large number of people he could ask for advice on this topic. So, while he wasn't alone in his office this time again, no longer was he surrounded by a council of experts - only Nanyet and Larry were here to join him. Nanyet was the easiest to understand, as the celestial was essentially the entirety of Zalcien's Black Bank's staff, apart from the managerial duties of Blake.

Larry, on the other hand, could be a bit of a surprise to those who knew the man on a surface level. Not that he was bad at his job, far from it, but... Most people who knew him, James included, would call him a lovable doofus. A pleasant man, but not one you'd typically trust in a position of importance or authority. And yet, spending time with him, there was an undeniable, incredibly high emotional intelligence to the man. And, most importantly, he both knew it and how to use it. Yes, he wasn't particularly clever, but he had managed to connect with Techlord when the otherwise prideful teen genius was at a low point.

That was something many people, James himself included, often forgot. Larry and Barry, while bumbling fools at a glance, had survived decades in Zalcien's slums. Yes, the zone wasn't a guaranteed death sentence, but the fact that they hadn't been killed yet by either man or beast was proof they were good at something, something that kept them alive. Luck could only save you so many times, especially if you had a habit of getting into trouble like these two. Barry was skilled with money and quick-buck schemes, and Larry was skilled with people. Combined, they always managed to scrape by enough to at least survive, and Larry did it with a smile.

Thankfully, unlike the creatives, this round of recruitment didn't necessitate particular considerations about unique ideas and skills. So, that was a silver lining.

James spared one last look at half of his first employees and his otherworldly consultant. Borrowing Nanyet wasn't too much of a problem since the celestial could create new instances of themself to continue their work - it was frankly less of a problem for the Black Bank's operations than having Blake on video call had been, at least according to the man himself - but it was still a reminder of how much he depended on others for some major topics. James knew by now that Blake, though motivated by his own ambitions, genuinely wanted to help. That didn't make the fact that he was at least partially dependent on him any easier to swallow.

And so, with a flick of a tentacle, James opened the door to his office for yet another round of applications. Hopefully, this time around, he wouldn't have to deal with a colorful bunch. Surely people interested in mundane work would be, well, mundane, right?

James was very tempted to make an eye just to scratch the urge of letting his eyelid twitch.

There, facing him, sprouting a bunch of nonsense, was a familiar face. One that he wasn't the only one to recognize, going by the confused look on Larry's face. The man had been the token friendly face and a representative of the shop when hiring inventors, and it was for this occasion that they had been presented with the silly-if-they-were-not-deadly Master Poppers. Bombs that were made to create instant party decorations and items.

For try as he might, there was no way a fake black curly mustache would fool James' senses. No, Manual Grandpop's very literal leonine face was hard to forget. And that was saying something, since James had since met another lion-headed man in the person of Pierre Poticha back in the Sunken City. With all that being said, James was a little more annoyed at his security for letting what was clearly a man wearing a bad disguise and wielding a fake identity in than the fact that the man in question was an idiot.

"-and as you can see on my résumé, I am quite a good worker. Why, look at all these recommendations from past employers!"

James resisted the urge to strangle the man after seeing the lion's own real name on the list and instead calmly asked him a question.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Mister Manual Grandpop. May I ask what form of idiocy convinced you that trying to apply for a job with a fake identity under a man who already met and rejected you was a good idea? Because I think my weapon division could make use of such a ludicrous level of foolishness to harmlessly disarm foes."

"Ah, boss? Kinda lost it in the second half, there."

"Thank you, Larry, your feedback is duly noted. Now, Grandpop, answer the question."

"Why, I have no idea what you're talking about! Manual Granpop was a fantastic employer, but I am in no way him! As I told you, my name is Manuel Bigburst!"

The sound of a black tentacle whipping the air next to his head suddenly killed all the bombastic overconfidence the man exuded, replaced with fear and concern.

"Okay, right, it's me. I may have lost my job, and thought 'well, why not try Silhouette again' since, you know, everyone calls you a great employer and all that. And I could have made some use of your workshops for my inventions after hours to try and convince you again."

"You thought applying under a fake identity was a good idea? When I have recently been attacked or contacted by numerous morally dubious individuals? A situation that would understandably have me on edge and watching out for any suspicious potential recruit?"

"In my defense, you hadn't been visited by the Empress yet when I applied."

"Mister Grandpop, if I hear any other cretinous thought leave your muzzle, I will see exactly how grand of a pop you can make. Are we clear?"

As he felt the light touch of something smooth and cold on his throat, the lion gulped and nodded shakily.

"Crystal."

"Splendid. Now, is there anything in the piece of paper that you presented that was true, or is it all just rubbish? This will determine how fast I kick you off the premises."

"Uhm... I really was a janitor for Xenocorp? But, uhm, they fired me after... Well, if you heard the story about the testing grounds exploding, they put part of the blame on me. I am not legally responsible, but they counted it as a major failing and justification for termination."

James tilted his head in response.

"I'm fairly certain the incident you speak of happened before our last encounter."

"Oh, that was a different testing site."

"..."

"... They have a lot of testing sites, okay? This kind of thing happens more often than you'd think."

Nanyet, who had been silent until now, chose this moment to finally speak up and involve themself in this mess. Honestly, even James had forgotten they were there.

"It is an accurate assessment, Silhouette. Manual Grandpop does not speak lies on this matter."

"Holy guacamole, it talks!"

"Mister Grandpop, meet Nanyet. Now, if you have nothing else to add, leave."

"Yeah, right, sure... Uhm... Do you need my phone number, or...?"

"If you completed the form properly, we already have it. And don't worry, I will make sure to note down your name alongside a photo of you, if only to remind our security team to do their job."

"Oh."

"I won't ask you to leave a third time."

"Gotta go!"

The lion ran off, his fake mustache falling off his face and down onto the ground.

"You were a little harsh on him, boss."

"Larry, I like to think I am a patient man. A very patient man. I hired the Shadow Commando and Doctor Decanov, after all. And this? This Manual Grandpop tests my patience in unconventional and never-seen-before ways. That, and he has displayed twice that he is a cretin with no sense of self-preservation or good sense. Frankly, the only reason I don't think he's someone's attempt to assassinate me with a heart attack or an aneurysm is because my lack of organs is public knowledge."

"Still, I'm not sure how well threatening to strangle a potential employee will go with people."

"Trust me, Larry. Anyone else would have already done the deed by now rather than just use words. Besides, I'm not the first CEO to use colorful language to reprimand someone."

"I don't think these guys have killed people, though."

"Not publicly, that is. Or not themselves. Now come on, we have more candidates to deal with. Hopefully the next one will be... Well, I'm not as foolish as to hope to get someone normal, but I'd like for them to be competent at least."

Five hours later, James had found his patience tested. Oh, there was no doubt that Manual Grandpop was the worst offender of the lot, but quantity was just as important as quality when it came to idiocy and annoyance, as the trio came to find. Even the always-friendly and positive Larry had lost a few hairs and his nerves a couple of times, and Nanyet, while their body hadn't moved, had let out ear-splitting screeches once or twice, with a constant hum of annoyance emanating from their marble form.

That wasn't to say they had been exclusively dealing with headaches. No, they had had a handful of mundane people and good unusual folks. Really, checking his notes, James knew the names he had kept already filled half the quota he planned to hire, even if there were quite a few he would happily replace in the coming days with more interviews. He couldn't even use a hyperbole among the lines of "flashes of sanity in a sea of mediocrity don't save the lot", since objectively they had interviewed more goods than bads, at least on the criteria they shared.

No, he just somehow found the way to gather what had to be some of Zalcien's worst people looking for work, and the few he had dealt with were enough to sour his mood. At least Larry and Barry, while bumbling fools in his eyes at first, had been capable of doing as asked. The same was true for the Shadow Commando, even if he still thought they were goofy lunatics to this day. But these people? Goodness gracious, Manual Grandpop wasn't the only one who had sparked violent urges in him.

"Silhouette. I have served Blake Black for a long time. This day spent at your side is officially the worst day of service I have ever experienced. Congratulations."

"My apologies, Nanyet. You don't control who shows up to this kind of thing. Well, beyond the bare minimum, such as ensuring we don't get assassins and monsters."

"You mean like candidate number seven, boss?"

"We do not speak of candidate seven, Larry."

"Got it, boss."

But, as exhausting as the whole ordeal had been, James had been looking forward to this day for a reason, even if he had already expected some of the stress it would cause. He had grossly underestimated it, but still. It was all worth it for one thing. The last applicant for today.

A young man who looked straight out of a world of black and white, devoid of all colors.

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