The alarm clock on the nightstand blared its usual obnoxious screech, cutting through the quiet of the early Hell morning. It was just another day in the I.M.P. household — well, the apartment above it, anyway. The faint smell of cheap coffee and gunpowder drifted up from the office below.

Loona's voice was muffled but sharp. The two of you had been sharing a room ever since Blitzø adopted you both, and mornings were always the same: the alarm, Loona's complaining, and the looming threat of having to actually get up and go to work.

The clock kept ringing. Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed.