Simon

You look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is coal black and stops just above your eyes. You are lean and meticulously dressed in a button down shirt. You are average height and are just fine with that. It allows people to underestimate you.

You exit the bathroom wondering what the hell just happened.

You rush to your laptop and pull up your newsfeed. People are missing, lots of people. There are stories claiming it’s alien abduction, a government plot, and even the rapture.

You check the market. It’s collapsing as you watch. You hop on your trading site and try to short an index, really any index, before the breakers stop trading. You cross your fingers hoping for an uptick.

You get one, but only manage to get in a small lot. You blow off your economics class, figuring the real world experience is worth more.

You spend the next week swinging a variety of trades and tripling your money. You curse yourself for not having more. Still netting twenty grand isn’t a bad weeks work.

You are sad when things start to look normal.

———————————————————

After a week off for everyone to mourn lost family and friends, classes resume. The next three months are nothing more than boring routine. Sure, there are reports some succubus got elected mayor of Las Vegas and proceeded to name herself a Queen and there are rumors you can sell your soul for money or power, but you don’t know any people that have.

Of course, that all changes when…