The Double Shift

Time: 6:14 PM

The car moved smoothly through the empty streets. A distant wind brushed the buildings. The sun had dipped low, casting long golden shadows across the cracked pavement.

Inside, the silence stretched thick between them.

Adam kept both hands on the wheel, eyes steady, focused forward. His jaw clenched slightly, like he was chewing thoughts he didn't want to say aloud.

Jack glanced at him.

Then back out the window.

Finally, he asked quietly, "So… what's really going on with this city at night?"

Adam didn't answer right away. His fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel.

"…Nothing for people like us to worry about," Adam said flatly. "Nighttime is a good time to be asleep. That's all."

Jack frowned. "You say that like it's a law or something."

Adam exhaled slowly through his nose. "It's not a law. It's sense."

"That why everyone clears out by five-thirty?"

"Jack—"

"That why public transportation dies before the sun does?"

Adam's voice turned slightly sharper.

"It's not our problem. It's not your problem. That's the end of it."

Jack leaned forward in his seat. "But it's part of the same company, right? That weird report? That box I delivered?"

Adam looked straight ahead, silent.

Jack pressed again. "Come on, man, you said this office 'manages weight.' What kind of weight needs boxes marked with moons and spirals, or files labeled with stuff like 'Hybrid Tissue'—"

Adam's hands tightened on the wheel again.

"Drop it."

Jack fell quiet for a moment, staring at him.

Then, softer: "Adam… what is a Hybrid?"

Adam said nothing.

The car kept rolling.

Then Jack whispered, almost to himself:

"…is that what attacked your building before?"

Adam finally turned his head, just slightly — eyes narrowing.

But before he could speak—

the ground trembled.

A deep rumble shook the undercarriage of the car, like something massive had struck the road behind them.

Jack jolted upright.

"What the hell—"

The rumble grew louder. Closer. Thudding with each impact.

Something was coming.

Then it burst from the alley.

A massive, hulking creature—half gorilla, half rhino—smashed into the road in front of them.

It wasn't running.

It was charging.

Adam barely had time to shout, "Brace!"

SLAM.

The Hybrid hit them like a freight train.

The car spun out of control, tires screeching against the pavement, glass spider-webbing, metal twisting. It flew off the road, bounced off a curb, and crashed through the rusted fence of an abandoned warehouse lot.

It all happened in seconds.

The vehicle smashed into a stack of rusted barrels and skidded to a stop, half-crumpled, smoke hissing from the hood.

Time: 6:17 PM

Warehouse District — Sector 4

Jack coughed, eyes blinking open. The world was sideways. His ears rang.

The windshield was cracked. The dashboard lights flickered.

"Adam…" he croaked.

He looked over. Adam was there — alive. Breathing. Wincing, but not seriously injured. Blood ran from a scrape above his eyebrow, but he looked more annoyed than hurt.

Jack tried to move.

Pain shot through his right side.

He gasped — looked down. His shirt was torn and damp with a streak of red. Not deep, but enough to sting with every breath.

Adam noticed and leaned over.

"Stay down—don't move too much."

Jack clenched his teeth. "What… what was that thing?!"

Adam exhaled and wiped the blood from his forehead.

"…Alright," he muttered, more to himself than Jack. "No point hiding it now."

He turned toward Jack, finally meeting his eyes.

"That was a Hybrid."

Jack blinked hard. "You're serious?"

Adam nodded slowly. "Half-beast, half-something-else. They come from a place no map covers. And when the sun goes down in this city…" He looked out through the cracked windshield. "...they come out to play."

Jack tried to sit up more.

"Our office — your new 'job' — isn't just about emails and reports. It's a front. The building you walked into this morning? That's just the surface."

He pointed toward the distance. "The real work? That happens during the second shift."

Jack's voice was quiet. "The… second shift?"

Adam reached into his coat pocket — his knuckles smeared with dust and blood — and pulled out something small.

A tie. Black. Slim. Ordinary-looking… except it shimmered with a faint silver thread down the middle.

"We wear these when the sun sets." Adam's tone was low now. Even. Measured.

"Because by night… we're not office workers anymore."