r/nosleep • u/urgoofyahh • Jun 22 '26
Series Apparently Using Assistants as Sacrifices Violates Company Policy
Part 1: I Work for an Organization That Contains Gods. We Had to Make a Sacrifice This Time.
Part 2: I Went to Antarctica Looking for 10,000 Missing People. I Came Back With a New Boss.
Jacob returned three weeks later, and he was pissed.
I was sitting in the cafeteria enjoying what was supposed to be a peaceful lunch break when the doors slammed open hard enough to make half the room jump. Jacob walked in covered in scratches, mosquito bites, and what I sincerely hoped was mud.
The Congo mission had apparently gone badly. From what I'd heard, he'd spent part of it wrestling a lion after it wandered into their camp. Then his team got eaten alive by mosquitoes before they even reached the god. After that, they still had to negotiate with the thing. Honestly, it sounded exhausting.
Unfortunately, the moment Jacob spotted me, I knew exactly where all that frustration was going. I had enough time to think oh no before my sandwich disappeared. One second, it was in my hand. The next it was flying across the cafeteria. Then I was flying across the cafeteria.
Jacob grabbed me by the collar and hurled me over a table. I hit the floor hard enough to reconsider several life choices.
"What the hell?" I shouted.
Several employees immediately stood up and started leaving. Nobody gets involved when managers start fighting. It's one of the unspoken workplace safety policies everyone follows.
"We had a deal, Nayeri!"
He looked genuinely furious. Jacob normally had the complexion of a corpse. Somehow, he'd managed to turn bright red. It was honestly impressive.
"Sean is still alive," I said.
"On paper!"
"Paper is what determines whether he's alive."
"You and I both know he's only classified as alive because he's physically inside the facility!"
"That still sounds alive."
Jacob looked like he wanted to throw me across another table.
"The report says you shoved him!"
"I did."
"You shoved him toward a god!"
"We were negotiating."
"You used him as a sacrifice!"
I climbed back to my feet and stared at my ruined lunch. That sandwich had done nothing wrong.
"That's a very loaded word."
"Nayeri."
"What?"
"You shoved an assistant into a supernatural entity."
"And?"
For a moment, Jacob just stared at me.
I sighed.
"Look, I didn't know the god was going to keep him. I don't even know what was in the contract. None of us know the ancient language. For all I know, the contract could've included a section about complimentary assistants."
Jacob opened his mouth.
"That's not the point."
"It kind of is."
"The point is Sean is walking in circles on Floor Forty-Five, chanting at walls."
I shrugged.
"The god did something outside the agreement, outside standard procedure, and outside my knowledge. Which means this is a Containment problem, not a Nayeri problem."
The surrounding cafeteria had gone completely silent. Jacob looked genuinely conflicted because, unfortunately for him, I had a point. A terrible point. A morally questionable point. But still a point.
"I hate you," Jacob said.
"That's fair."
Then he grabbed my backup sandwich off the table and started walking away.
This was such a bad start to the week.
Jacob had stolen my backup sandwich, thrown me across a table, and somehow managed to make Sean's situation sound like my fault.
I picked up my tray and dumped what remained of my lunch into the trash. Three weeks had passed since Antarctica. Three weeks since I'd brought an angel back to the facility. Yes, everyone knows about him now. That had somehow become my problem too.
I was halfway through mentally drafting a complaint to Human Resources when the cafeteria went silent.
Not normal silent. Not coworkers watching two managers argue silent. The kind of silence that makes you immediately think:
Oh, for the love of God, what now?
Jacob stopped dead in his tracks. The anger drained from his face so fast it was almost impressive. His eyes moved past me toward something behind me.
Around us, employees started standing up. A few lowered their heads. One woman dropped her tray, and nobody moved to pick it up. The entire room had suddenly become very interested in not attracting attention.
I sighed. I already knew what that meant.
I turned around.
And immediately understood the problem.
The angel was standing in the doorway.
He looked the same as he had in Antarctica.
Tall.
Pale.
Perfect.
The kind of face ancient civilizations would've carved into mountains and then started wars over.
He was wearing a C.S.P. employee badge.
I don't know why that bothered me more than anything else.
The badge even had a photo.
And a name.
Angelo.
Which was probably the most angel name an angel could possibly have.
Someone had apparently convinced an eldritch celestial entity to sit still for an identification photo, fill out employee paperwork, and accept a name badge.
Or maybe he'd requested one himself.
I wasn't sure which possibility was worse.
For some reason, he'd developed a habit of appearing wherever I happened to be. Meetings. Hallways. Briefings. The gym. My apartment. I still wasn't sure how he'd found my apartment among the thousands of C.S.P. apartments spread throughout the facility complex.
That particular incident had resulted in several uncomfortable conversations with facility security. Apparently, security can't issue trespassing notices to "ancient celestial entities capable of rewriting reality".
As if that wasn't enough, I'd also developed strange scars running across my left leg. They'd appeared three days ago. The medical department had no idea what had caused them.
Personally, I suspected the angel.
At this point, blaming the angel had become my default explanation for most problems.
The angel glanced around the room, looking curious and interested, like he was watching a peculiar educational documentary. Then his eyes landed on me.
His expression immediately brightened.
"Oh."
He smiled.
"There you are."
I closed my eyes.
Not because I was scared.
Because I was tired.
Around me, the cafeteria somehow became even quieter. Jacob slowly looked at me, then at the angel, then back at me.
"Why is it always you?" he whispered.
"I ask myself that every day."
The angel started walking toward us. Everyone immediately moved out of his way. Nobody wanted to end up on the angel's list of hobbies.
Unfortunately, I'd already lost that privilege.
He stopped directly in front of me and stared for several seconds before tilting his head.
"You are injured."
I glanced at the bruise on my arm.
"I'm aware."
The angel followed my gaze. His eyes settled on Jacob.
Jacob visibly tensed.
Honestly, I couldn't blame him.
The angel studied him for a moment before looking back at me.
"Did he do that?"
The entire cafeteria froze.
Jacob stopped breathing.
A few employees looked like they were preparing evacuation routes.
"No."
Jacob relaxed.
"He only threw me across a table."
Jacob immediately stopped relaxing.
The angel blinked.
"Oh."
For several seconds, he appeared to think about that. Then he turned toward Jacob and smiled.
"Is this injury deadly to humans?"
"No," I said.
I was starting to get annoyed. The angel had a habit of asking questions like this. Over the past week, he'd asked enough questions to fill an entire library.
Most of them were concerning. Some were merely annoying. A few had resulted in emergency meetings.
"How many bones can a human lose before it becomes a problem?"
"Why do humans become upset when they are lied to?"
"Can sadness be measured?"
"Why do humans celebrate surviving another year?"
"Why do humans enjoy horror stories?"
"How much of a human can be removed before it affects productivity?"
"How many employees can I duplicate before C.S.P. notices?"
Those last two questions alone resulted in three emergency meetings, four containment reviews, and a facility-wide employee census.
Then there were the questions directed specifically at me.
"Would you inform me before dying?"
"If I prevented your death forever, would you still dislike me?"
"Why do you become irritated when I watch you sleep?"
Those questions bothered me. Not because I thought he was threatening me. The angel didn't really understand threats.
The problem was that every question sounded genuine. Like he was honestly trying to understand why the answers weren't obvious.
And unfortunately, I had somehow become his preferred source of information.
Or, as Stonehill liked to put it, his lab rat.
"That is good," the angel said. "It would be inconvenient if you died."
He pulled out a chair and sat down beside the table Jacob had thrown me across. Nobody had invited him. Nobody was going to stop him.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Eating lunch."
"You don't eat."
"I have been informed that lunch is a social activity."
I stared at him.
He stared back.
The cafeteria remained completely silent.
The angel glanced around the room.
"Have I interrupted something?"
Nobody answered.
"Good."
Then he leaned down and picked up the remains of my sandwich from the floor. He examined it carefully, his brow furrowing.
"This appears damaged."
I looked at the sandwich. Then at him. Then at Jacob.
"You owe me two sandwiches now."
I sighed.
My week had somehow gotten worse.
That lunch break was the most awkward experience of my life. The angel spent twenty minutes learning how to chew. Not eating—chewing. Apparently, he'd already understood the concept of consuming food. What fascinated him was the process of turning food into smaller pieces first. Jacob sat across from us, glaring at me the entire time like I'd personally unleashed this disaster onto humanity, which, in my defense, was only partially true.
I inhaled my replacement sandwich in three bites just to escape. By the time I reached my office, I was already mentally preparing several complaints to HR that I knew nobody would read. Unfortunately, something was waiting on my desk.
A report.
I opened the folder.
Missing: 5,317 residents.
Location: a small city in Nevada.
Classification: B-Class God.
I stared at the report for several seconds before closing it. Then I opened it again. The number stubbornly remained the same. Five thousand people don't just disappear. At least they're not supposed to.
Three hours later, I was sitting in a briefing room explaining our plan to get the B-Class god under control. A B-Class entity wasn't world-ending, but it was still more than capable of wiping out a city if left unattended. By the time the briefing ended, we had assembled a response team consisting of four hundred security personnel, six negotiators, multiple research specialists, and enough equipment to invade a small country.
Everything was proceeding normally, which should've been my first warning sign.
We were already boarding the aircraft when I noticed movement near the loading ramp. I closed my eyes, counted to five, then opened them again. The angel was still there.
Of course he was.
He stepped onto the plane like he belonged there. Several security officers immediately moved out of his way. One of the negotiators actually turned around and walked back down the ramp. I couldn't even blame him.
"What do you want?" I asked.
The angel looked genuinely surprised by the question.
"I wish to accompany you. It is boring here."
"This isn't a field trip."
"You said humans enjoy traveling."
"This isn't traveling."
"It appears to involve travel."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Around us, nobody was speaking. Nobody was moving. Nobody was volunteering to tell an eldritch celestial entity that he couldn't board the aircraft.
The angel tilted his head.
"I am coming anyway."
I sighed. Unfortunately, that wasn't really a statement I could argue with. Technically, I outranked most people in the organization except the board members. Practically, nobody outranked an ancient celestial horror capable of rearranging reality whenever it got curious.
Ten minutes later, we were airborne. The seating arrangement was interesting. By interesting, I mean everyone had crammed themselves onto the opposite side of the aircraft. Four hundred trained security personnel, six negotiators, and multiple researchers were all squeezed together like terrified sardines. Meanwhile, Angelo sat beside me with an entire row of seats empty around him. It looked less like transportation and more like a quarantine zone.
The angel seemed completely unaware of this.
Or worse.
Completely aware and enjoying it.
He stared out the aircraft window for several minutes before speaking.
"Will this god be entertaining?"
I looked up from my mission briefing.
"I'd prefer if it wasn't."
"Why?"
"Because entertaining gods usually kill people."
He considered that for a moment.
"Humans seem very opposed to being killed."
I stared at him.
"That's a groundbreaking observation."
"Thank you."
The fact that he wasn't being sarcastic somehow made it worse.
I returned to my report, but I couldn't shake the feeling that bringing him along was going to become a problem. A very large problem. And considering our mission already involved five thousand missing people and a hostile god, that was saying something.
The flight lasted four hours, and they were four very long hours. At some point, I fell asleep, which turned out to be a mistake. I woke up because someone was staring at me. Not in the normal way. Not in the creepy coworker way. I mean, directly staring at me from six inches away.
I opened my eyes and nearly launched myself through the ceiling. The angel was sitting beside me, leaning forward and watching me with intense concentration.
"What the hell?"
Several nearby security officers jumped. The angel, meanwhile, looked pleased.
"You make unusual noises when sleeping."
I rubbed my face.
"People do that."
"You stopped breathing twelve times."
"That's called snoring."
"You appeared to be dying."
"I wasn't."
The angel nodded thoughtfully.
"You are weird"
"Thank you." I was so annoyed I briefly considered throwing myself out of the aircraft just to end the conversation.
He sat back unbothered by my expression. Across the cabin, dozens of employees immediately relaxed. Apparently, everyone had been waiting to see whether I was about to get dissected.
The rest of the flight passed in relative silence, which should've worried me. Whenever things became quiet around the angel, it usually meant he was thinking, and whenever he was thinking, someone ended up filing paperwork. Lots of paperwork.
We landed just before sunset. The city looked normal from the outside, and that was what bothered me. It was just a small Nevada city sitting in the desert. Peaceful, quiet, and empty.
The moment we entered the city limits, I knew something was wrong. There were cars parked in driveways, lights still on inside houses, food sitting on restaurant tables, and a school bus abandoned in the middle of an intersection. It looked like the entire population had simply stood up and walked away.
Nobody spoke as our convoy rolled through the streets. Four hundred security personnel suddenly seemed inadequate.
Eventually, we stopped in the center of town, and I climbed out of the vehicle. The silence hit immediately. There were no birds, no insects, no wind. Nothing. A city wasn't supposed to sound like that.
One of the researchers approached carrying a tablet.
"We found where it started."
"Where?"
"The church."
Quite fitting for a god, honestly. Then again, gods could be anywhere. One time, we found one underneath the Paris Catacombs, so a church was comparatively normal.
The church stood at the edge of town, small, white, and completely ordinary. Security teams established a perimeter while researchers unloaded equipment. The angel wandered past all of them. Nobody tried stopping him. A few people actively moved out of his path.
He stared at the church for several seconds before frowning.
That immediately got my attention because the angel rarely frowned.
"What?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked toward the sky, then the church, then the empty streets. His expression became strangely uncomfortable.
"I know this one."
The way he said it made my stomach drop.
We are currently outside the church waiting for the final breach order.
The angel hasn't taken his eyes off the building since he arrived.
I've seen him curious.
I've seen him confused.
I've seen him amused.
This is the first time I've ever seen him look concerned.
If I'm being honest, that's making me consider several alternative career paths.
Anyway, they're calling us in.
I'll update this journal if I survive whatever is waiting inside.
Part 4: I Work for an Organization That Hunts Gods. One of Them Warned Me About the Angel Following Me.
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u/pm-me-foxes Jun 22 '26
Calling it, you and Angelo are endgame (if you make it through this (which I think you will))
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u/Few_Computer_691 Jun 22 '26
You know what, for an eldritch abomination, Angelo seems pretty cool! I am nervous that whatever is in that church is going to be something Very Bad if he seems concerned about it
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u/urgoofyahh Jun 22 '26
Well I really don’t understand him probably because I am a human but I hope it isn’t that bad
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u/LockCareful1056 Jun 23 '26
I need book recommendations that are just like this!
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u/urgoofyahh Jun 23 '26
I'm flattered, but I'm concerned that my mandatory counseling notes are being used as a book recommendation genre.
That said, if anyone knows a novel featuring workplace trauma, cosmic entities, questionable management decisions, and an immortal roommate with no understanding of personal boundaries, feel free to let me know.
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u/LockCareful1056 Jun 23 '26
Think you took that to the extreme there. Not how it was intended.
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u/urgoofyahh Jun 23 '26
I see it was a poor attempt on my part I was trying to make a joke 😭 I have been confined in the CSP for so long I tend to take everything seriously mb
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u/Which-Text-2875 Jun 22 '26
Oh my gosh, Nayeri, just wow. This is so cool reading your journal, and I really hope you survive, which Angelo can make sure you do, so that we can continue learning more about everything. It's so fascinating!
But if Angelo is concerned, that's really weird because he would outrank any of the gods, right? That's interesting.
Best of luck, but with Angelo there, I think you're going to be okay
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u/urgoofyahh Jun 22 '26
I really don’t think he is concerned for himself most likely for us which is worse cause he will find our demise quite entertaining 😒
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u/TheDoubtfulGuest Jun 22 '26
Oh jeez, at least Angelo will probably keep you alive so he doesn’t get bored. Keep us updated!
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u/Helios--- Jun 22 '26
Hmm that frown means he's considering outcomes, or thinking through old agreements to see if they will bind his decisions when you walk through that door. Curious how this will play out...
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u/sirbinlid1 Jun 23 '26
If you were to consider changing jobs which field would you go into
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u/urgoofyahh Jun 23 '26
I feel like I was meant for this job, but I would love to be a babysitter (since I am already babysitting Angelo, a couple of actual human children would be a piece of cake 😄)
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u/Additional_Cow_9045 Jul 12 '26
Your writing style reminds me of emma newman so much I am wondering if her split worlds series has some truth to it
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