GTS Summoner Ch 11: The Government Spook!

It had been three days since a golden-haired titan stomped her way through Markus's life and leveled half the city like she was auditioning for Kaiju of the Year.

Now, he was laid up in a hospital bed, wrapped tighter than a burrito in bandages, staring out the window at the skyline—or what was left of it.

The city was in reconstruction mode, which basically meant everywhere you looked, there were cranes, bulldozers, and tired-looking people covered in dust. What had once been a bustling metropolis was now a half-demolished mess of broken glass and twisted metal. Streets had been repaved, buildings were getting patched up, and power had just returned to some areas the day before.

Somehow, through all that chaos, the hospital had stayed open—well, mostly. It helped that the building Markus was in was just barely outside the knight's stomping zone. Still, most of the east wing had been crushed like a soda can, and according to the nurse, a vending machine was still missing, presumed eaten.

Markus sat on his bed, arms resting behind his head, letting out a long sigh. His ribs ached like hell. Apparently, he had three broken ones, along with what his doctor charmingly called "mystery bruises," which probably came from getting flung like a ragdoll by the force of a falling skyscraper-sized woman.

"Good times," he muttered, staring at the TV mounted in the corner.

Every channel was still talking about her. The giant woman. The "Titan Knight," as the news had dubbed her.

There were theories—so many theories.

Alien weapon. Secret government experiment gone rogue. Ancient mythical creature awakened from a thousand-year nap. Some guy on Channel 9 even claimed she was the ghost of a medieval war goddess who'd come back because her Netflix account got canceled.

Markus didn't care.

He was tired of giants.

Tired of glowing swords.

Tired of cities exploding.

Tired of almost dying twice a day.

He glanced over at the bag with his clothes sitting in the corner. Clean clothes, freshly laundered. His discharge papers were ready.

Today was the day.

He smiled. A little lopsided and bruised, but genuine.

"Thank God."

The door opened.

Markus blinked, expecting a nurse or maybe his doctor with another "fun update" about his healing bones.

Instead, a man in a black suit stepped inside.

Not the friendly kind of suit, either. This guy looked like he walked out of a shadowy government bunker somewhere in the mountains. Clean-shaven, short-cropped hair, dark sunglasses—even indoors. The whole Men in Black starter pack.

Markus sat up a bit, wincing as his ribs protested.

"...You don't look like a doctor."

The man didn't smile. Of course he didn't.

"I'm Agent Rhett Maddox, Department of Paranormal Oversight and Anomalous Threat Response."

He held up a badge with a fancy government seal that looked like it had been designed by someone who took triangles way too seriously.

Markus raised an eyebrow. "That... sounds made up."

"It isn't," Agent Maddox replied, deadpan.

"Well. That's comforting." Markus rubbed the back of his neck. "Let me guess—you're here to ask about the giant glowing sword lady who turned downtown into a pancake?"

"You could say that," Maddox said, walking over and pulling a chair from the corner. He sat, legs crossed, hands folded neatly. "Now that you're feeling better, we'd like to ask you a few questions. Specifically about your encounter with the entity now designated as Anomaly-1: Calamity-Class."

Markus blinked. "You guys gave her a trading card?"

Maddox didn't laugh. Not even a smirk. Not even a twitch.

Markus leaned back, as much as the bed and his ribs would allow. "Alright, ask your questions. Just know I'm not responsible for any of this. I don't know anything about her, I didn't date her, and I definitely didn't insult her sword."

Agent Maddox pulled out a small device—probably a recorder. "Tell me everything you remember from the moment you encountered her until the moment she vanished. In detail."

He took a breath, eyeing the agent warily. "You guys really have no idea what she was, huh?"

Maddox gave a slight nod. "We know a great deal more than you think. But your... involvement is unique. You were the only civilian to interact with her directly and survive. That makes your perspective valuable."

Markus had never been much for storytelling. His idea of a detailed explanation was usually something along the lines of "And then everything exploded." But now, sitting half-upright in a hospital bed with three broken ribs, a thousand bruises, and a guy in a suit staring at him like he was the last puzzle piece in a world-ending jigsaw, he found himself going over everything.

From the very beginning.

"So yeah," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I was carrying my sister out of the hospital. The place was crumbling all around me—whole rooms dropping into the floor, lights exploding, smoke everywhere. I don't even know how I didn't fall straight through one of the cracks."

Agent Maddox sat still, hands folded on his lap, face unreadable behind dark sunglasses.

"I thought once I got out of there, I'd be in the clear," Markus continued. "But then she showed up. Her."

He exhaled slowly.

"That... Titan. Knight. Whatever the hell she was. One minute I'm scrambling over rubble, trying to keep my sister alive, and the next I've got a skyscraper-sized woman with glowing red eyes looking at me like I ran over her dog."

He laughed, bitterly. "I mean, you ever had a building try to kill you? Not fall on you, but actually aim at you? That's what it felt like when she swung her sword. Every time she moved, the wind would nearly knock me off my feet. And her face..."

Markus shook his head.

"She looked angry. Furious. But not just in a you-spilled-my-coffee way. It was deeper than that. Personal. Like... like I'd done something to her. Like she knew me. And I didn't know her at all."

He paused. "It was weird, though. The longer she chased me, the more... off she seemed. Like she was struggling to breathe. She'd swing that massive sword, sure, but her steps were wobbly. Her breath came in these huge gusts, like she'd just run a marathon uphill. And then, when I yelled at her—just yelled—she backed off. Like I'd punched her in the chest."

Markus leaned forward slightly, ignoring the twinge of pain in his ribs.

"After that, things just got weirder. My chest started glowing—glowing, for crying out loud—and she... she looked terrified. She ran like she was on fire. Said she wasn't going back, screamed something about revenge, and then... she just..."

He made a vague motion with his hand. "Turned to dust. Gone. Like she was never even there."

Silence filled the room.

Markus's shoulders sank a little as he looked down at his hands.

"...Y'know, part of me feels bad for her."

Agent Maddox tilted his head slightly, as if that answer had surprised him.

"I mean, yeah, she tried to crush me with her boot and turn me into a pancake with a glowing sword," Markus went on, "but... she looked scared. Like she was trying to finish something. Like... something was pulling her strings. I dunno. I'm not a therapist, but if I was? I'd call that a full-blown breakdown."

A beat passed. The faint beep of the heart monitor and the hum of distant city sirens filled the air.

Then, Agent Maddox reached into his coat and quietly clicked off the recorder. He slipped it back into his inner pocket and stood without a word.

Markus watched him head for the door, brows furrowed. There was a heaviness in his chest, and it wasn't just the bruised ribs.

He opened his mouth, then hesitated. But the question burned too hot to ignore.

"...This isn't over, is it?"

Maddox paused, hand on the doorknob.

He didn't turn.

"No," he said quietly. "No, it's not."

Then he stepped out, the door hissing shut behind him.

Markus stared at it for a long moment, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like the whisper of trouble still hanging in the air.

He exhaled. "Great," he muttered. "Just what I needed. A glowing chest, a giant stalker with a sword, and now I'm on a first-name basis with a government spook."

Outside the window, the city limped on—scarred, battered, but stubborn as hell.

And so was Markus.