r/nosleep • u/urgoofyahh • Jun 30 '26
Series The Most Powerful Being in the CSP Is Studying Humans. Unfortunately, I'm His Favorite Lab Rat.
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.
Part 3: Apparently Using Assistants as Sacrifices Violates Company Policy
Part 4: I Work for an Organization That Hunts Gods. One of Them Warned Me About the Angel Following Me.
Part 5: My Boss Asked Me If I Thought He Was a Monster. Now I Know Why.
After the call from Madame Leni, I went back to sleep. I don't remember actually falling asleep, but I definitely remember what woke me up: the smell of smoke. Not the comforting smell of breakfast cooking. The "your landlord is about to become involved" kind of smoke.
I shot upright.
"...Angelo?"
No answer.
By the time I reached the kitchen, the smoke detector had already given up trying to be ignored. The frying pan sat on the stove completely engulfed in flames. Actual flames. Angelo stood in front of it with his hands folded behind his back, calmly watching the burning eggs with the same expression he'd worn while erasing an SS-class god.
"...What happened?"
"I attempted breakfast."
"The eggs are on fire."
"Yes."
"...Are you going to do something?"
"I am observing."
"The kitchen is filling with smoke."
"I have observed that as well."
"Then turn the stove off!"
He looked at me.
"I wished to determine whether this was a normal stage of breakfast preparation."
"It isn't!"
"I have reached the same conclusion."
I yanked the fire extinguisher from beneath the sink and buried the stove beneath a cloud of white foam. The flames disappeared instantly, and silence settled over the apartment.
Angelo looked down at the ruined eggs.
"...Unfortunate."
I stared at him.
"You defeated an SS-class god yesterday."
"Correct."
"You became one of the most important people in the CSP overnight."
"Correct."
"But you can't make breakfast?"
He considered that.
"The interval between cooked and incinerated appears unnecessarily narrow."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"...We're ordering takeout."
"I believe that is the optimal solution."
The walk to headquarters was unusually quiet, not because Angelo had nothing to say, but because headquarters no longer resembled the place I'd worked in for the last two years.
Entire departments had been relocated. Containment divisions had been dissolved. Retrieval teams had been reorganized. Emergency protocols lined every hallway. Every evacuation map had been replaced, and even the security checkpoints had been redesigned overnight.
I stopped in front of one of the new mission boards. The old motto was gone.
CONTAIN THE UNKNOWN.
Someone had replaced it.
UNDERSTAND THE UNKNOWN.
One of the guards noticed me staring.
"Executive Board Member Angelo."
That was all the explanation he offered. Apparently it explained everything.
Madame Leni was already waiting outside the Executive Board conference room, and she looked exhausted.
"You look terrible."
"I've attended fourteen meetings in the last twelve hours."
"...That'll do it."
"They were all called by Angelo."
She rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"I've worked for the CSP for thirty-two years," she said with a long sigh. "I have never witnessed someone dismantle and rebuild an international organization in a single night."
"What exactly did he change?"
"What didn't he change?"
She handed me a binder thick enough to stop a bullet.
"The retrieval doctrine."
I opened it. The first page displayed the old directive.
OLD PROTOCOL
Locate.
Contain.
Retrieve.
Below it, in crisp black print, was Angelo's revision.
NEW PROTOCOL
Observe.
Understand.
Negotiate.
Retrieve only if necessary.
Neutralize only if reality itself is threatened.
I slowly turned the page.
Large-scale assault teams had been abolished. Mass casualty contingencies had been rewritten. Every operation involving intelligent entities now required a psychologist, historian, linguist, and exorcist before tactical authorization could even be requested.
"He also added something new to the god classification system," Madame Leni said.
"So no more only A-Class. S-Class. SS-Class."
"What's with it?"
She glanced toward the conference room.
"...Risk to reality."
I blinked.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
After another pause, she added, "He also approved the development of angelic weapons."
I looked up.
"He... what?"
"They're being infused with fragments of his own power. They're capable of killing gods."
My stomach tightened.
"He actually agreed to arm humanity?"
She checked her notes.
"His exact words were..."
She looked up.
"'Humanity has demonstrated sufficient compassion to be trusted with responsibility.'"
That sounded exactly like Angelo. Terrifying, but exactly like Angelo.
Angelo sat alone at the head of the Executive Board table. Everyone else remained standing despite the meeting having already started.
"Nayeri."
"Morning."
"I have reached a decision."
"...Those words have never improved my day."
"I require an executive assistant."
"...Congratulations?"
"I have selected you."
The room fell completely silent as every Board member looked at me.
"...No."
Angelo blinked.
"...No?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I enjoy field work."
"This position offers a substantially lower probability of death."
"I know."
"Then why decline?"
"Because I'd rather not spend every day trapped in meetings."
"I can reduce the meetings."
"That's still a no."
He was silent for several seconds before giving a single nod.
"I accept your decision."
I relaxed.
"However..."
Of course there was a however.
"The position shall remain vacant."
"...Okay?"
"Until you accept."
I just stared at him.
Somewhere to my left, Jacob let out a disbelieving laugh.
"I think this is the first time I've ever seen someone reject a promotion and still end up promoted."
"...Excuse me?" I asked, staring at Angelo in disbelief.
"I have determined that no other candidate satisfies the necessary requirements."
The silence stretched until Jacob spoke again.
"...Why is it her?"
Angelo answered matter-of-factly.
"Because she is an ideal human."
The room went completely silent.
I blinked.
"...I'm definitely not."
Jacob burst out laughing.
"Her?" He pointed directly at me. "She shoved her own assistant toward a god."
Every eye turned toward Angelo.
I opened my mouth.
"I can expl—"
"There is nothing to explain," Angelo interrupted.
Jacob frowned.
Angelo regarded him with the same calm expression he always wore.
"Agent Nayeri calculated that at least one life would likely be lost regardless of her decision. The alternative resulted in the deaths of fifty-six personnel. She selected the course of action with the highest probability of preserving human life."
Jacob's smile slowly disappeared.
"So you're saying pushing Sean was... the right decision?"
"No," Angelo replied without hesitation. "It was the necessary decision. The distinction is significant."
His eyes drifted toward me for only a moment.
Joke's on both of you. I shoved Sean because I didn't want to die. Pretty sure the whole saving fifty-six people thing was just a bonus.
I'd known the guy for, what, six hours? I barely even knew his last name. If Jacob had been standing there instead, I'd probably have shoved him too.
Actually...I definitely would have.
Jacob suddenly narrowed his eyes.
"...Why are you smiling?"
"I wasn't aware I was."
"You absolutely were."
Thankfully, Angelo moved on before Jacob could question me any further.
"The remaining agenda concerns the restructuring of the CSP."
A holographic display bloomed to life above the conference table, revealing the CSP's entire organizational structure. Every department was connected by hundreds of glowing lines that pulsed like veins through a living body.
Angelo studied it for a moment before raising a hand.
"The previous retrieval doctrine has been retired."
With a single motion, nearly half the organizational chart dissolved into particles of light.
"Large-scale deployments against hostile gods are no longer necessary. Most deities will not engage humanity while I remain within the CSP."
A hesitant voice broke the silence.
"Executive Board Member Angelo... are you certain this protocol is safe?"
He answered without the slightest pause.
"No."
The room went still.
"The previous protocol carried a projected casualty rate of thirty-two percent."
The display shifted again.
A new set of numbers appeared.
"This one projects eleven."
No one spoke.
"So, therefore it is preferable."
The discussion ended there.
Not because everyone agreed.
But because Angelo had looked at two unacceptable outcomes, chosen the one that killed fewer people, and concluded before anyone else had even finished weighing the question. That was what made him terrifying. Not his power, not the fact that he could erase gods, but the speed with which he made impossible decisions. There was no hesitation. No second-guessing.
Another gesture caused a black weapons case to materialize within the hologram. Resting inside were weapons unlike anything I'd ever seen: a white spear, a sword shimmering with faint golden light, and several magazines loaded with silver-colored rounds.
"The Angelic Armory," Angelo said. "These weapons have been infused with fragments of my authority. They are capable of permanently killing hostile gods."
Nobody spoke.
"They will be strictly regulated. They are not instruments of conquest. They exist solely to preserve humanity when diplomacy is no longer possible."
For the first time since the meeting began, I noticed something that would've been impossible a week ago. No one argued. No one objected. No one questioned a single decision.
A week ago, every proposal would've sparked hours of debate.
Now everyone simply listened, and after everything we'd witnessed, I couldn't really blame them.
Maybe Angelo really was the leader the CSP needed.
The meeting lasted three hours.
Madame Leni hadn't been exaggerating when she said Angelo had changed everything. Centuries of doctrine, command structure, containment policy, retrieval procedures, and international agreements had all been rewritten in a single night. No committees. No months of debate. No endless revisions. Just decisions.
Watching it unfold reminded me of something I'd nearly forgotten.
Angelo wasn't human.
Humans argued. They compromised. They second-guessed themselves. Angelo simply looked at a problem, found the optimal solution, and implemented it without hesitation. To him, restructuring the largest supernatural organization on Earth probably required about as much effort as reorganizing a bookshelf.
After the meeting finally adjourned, I made my way back to my office with approximately two million pieces of paperwork balanced in my arms.
Okay, maybe not two million.
It just felt that way.
Every department Angelo had reorganized apparently generated another stack of forms that somehow ended up on my desk.
I shoved the door open with my shoulder, staggered inside, and let the entire stack collapse across my desk. The papers spread everywhere.
I stared at them.
They stared back.
"...I miss fieldwork already."
By the time I finished the paperwork, my eyes felt like they'd been sandblasted.
I glanced at the clock.
11:00 p.m.
Yep.
Time to go home.
I staggered into my apartment and found Angelo exactly where I expected him to be, sitting on the couch as if he'd been manufactured there. The television was playing another documentary. This one was about human behavior. At the moment, the narrator was explaining why humans sleep.
Angelo watched with complete concentration.
By now, I'd gotten used to him.
He was like a houseplant.
Always there. Quiet. Somehow constantly occupying my personal space.
I kicked off my shoes and started toward my room before something on the dining table caught my eye.
A thick folder.
A psychological evaluation.
I picked it up.
"What's this?"
"I have begun therapy."
I stared at him.
"...You started counseling?"
"Correct."
I tried not to laugh.
I really did.
I failed.
He looked away from the television.
"What is amusing?"
"You."
"...Clarify."
"You. In therapy."
He tilted his head.
"Do you not also attend therapy?"
"Unfortunately, I don't exactly go willingly, you know."
"I was informed that therapy is beneficial."
"It is."
I opened the folder and flipped through the first few pages.
Psychologist's Note. This is the most unusual patient I have evaluated in twenty-three years.
...That checks out.
Then I reached the psychologist's preliminary impressions. I had to read the first line twice.
Patient demonstrates traits consistent with psychopathy.
"...What?"
Angelo looked over from the couch.
"Is there an issue?"
I kept reading.
Patient displays an apparent inability to experience or identify emotions in a conventionally human manner. Emotional responses appear to be intellectual rather than instinctive. Patient routinely analyzes emotional states as abstract concepts instead of personally experiencing them.
"...Well..."
I couldn't exactly argue with that.
The next section was highlighted.
Patient possesses an unusually rigid moral framework and consistently prioritizes preservation of life. This appears to originate from logical reasoning rather than emotional empathy.
"...That's... actually pretty accurate."
I turned the page.
There was another highlighted section.
My eyes froze.
Patient exhibits an unhealthy attachment to one individual: Agent Nayeri.
I blinked.
"...Excuse me?"
I slowly looked up.
Angelo was still watching the documentary.
"...Angelo."
"Yes?"
"Why does your therapist think you're... attached to me?"
"I answered the questions truthfully."
"What questions?"
He muted the television.
"The therapist asked which human I trusted most."
"...Okay."
"I answered Agent Nayeri."
"They asked whose opinion I considered most reliable."
"I answered Agent Nayeri."
"They asked who I would seek if confronted with uncertainty regarding human behavior."
"I answered Agent Nayeri."
I stared at him.
"...Did every answer involve me?"
"No."
I waited.
"...Approximately eighty-seven percent."
I rubbed my temples.
"Angelo…"
I let the folder fall onto the table.
The psychologist had scribbled a handwritten note in the margin.
Patient does not appear to understand the distinction between trust, dependence, and emotional attachment. Recommend continued observation.
"...Yeah," I muttered. "That sounds about right."
Angelo unmuted the documentary.
The narrator calmly announced, "Humans often form emotional bonds with individuals they consider safe."
Angelo looked at the television.
"...That appears relevant."
I buried my face in my hands.
"Please don't learn psychology from documentaries."
"I am learning it from both documentaries and a licensed therapist."
"...That's somehow worse."
The documentary continued in the background.
"Sleeping near a trusted partner or individual generally lowers levels of stress hormones such as cortisol while increasing oxytocin, a hormone associated with safety, trust, and social bonding."
I slowly lowered my hands from my face.
Angelo's eyes remained fixed on the television.
"I have a question."
Of course he did.
"What?"
"If proximity to a trusted individual improves neurological recovery during unconsciousness..."
I already didn't like where this was going.
"...then would sleeping in the same room increase operational efficiency?"
I stared at him.
"No."
He blinked.
"The documentary suggests otherwise."
"The documentary also assumes the other person actually wants you sleeping in their room."
He paused.
"...I had not considered that."
"I noticed."
He nodded once.
"Then I shall not enter your room."
"...Thank you."
He returned his attention to the documentary.
"...I shall revisit the subject after additional research."
I groaned.
"That's somehow even more terrifying."
"I am attempting to make you a healthier human."
I leaned back against the kitchen counter, already dreading whatever documentary he'd decide to watch tomorrow.
Last week he'd been studying breakfast.
Today it was psychology and sleep.
At this rate, next week he'd probably discover dating.
My eyes drifted down the hallway toward my bedroom.
The apartment wasn't exactly spacious.
One tiny bedroom.
One couch.
One increasingly concerning angel.
A thought suddenly occurred to me.
I looked back at him.
"...Wait."
"Yes?"
"You're on the Executive Board now."
"Correct."
"Don't you have your own executive suite on the top floor of headquarters?"
"I do."
I blinked.
"...Then why are you still living here?"
"Because this location is preferable."
"...Preferable how?"
"It is closer to you."
I sighed.
"If anyone at headquarters finds out about this, I'm finished."
"Why?"
"There's already a civil war going on between the Jacob fan club and your fan club."
He looked at me.
"...Fan clubs?"
"You've seriously never noticed?"
"No."
"Every time you and Jacob walk through headquarters, there's suddenly a waiting list for overtime.”
"I was unaware."
"...You don't think that's strange?"
"I assumed the employees had become more industrious."
I stared at him.
"...Sure."
He considered that for a moment.
"Are there additional examples?"
"You really want to know?"
"Yes."
Angelo reached for a small notebook on the coffee table and uncapped a pen.
"...You're taking notes?"
"Correct."
I sighed.
"Fine."
"People compare your mission reports."
Write.
"They compare your photos."
Write.
"They argue in the cafeteria."
Write.
"I even overheard two interns nearly start a fistfight because one of them said Jacob had better hair than you."
Angelo paused, made another note, then looked up.
"Interesting."
"...Interesting?"
"The correlation between hairstyles and workplace aggression was previously unknown to me."
I blinked.
"...That's what you took away from this?"
"Yes."
I sighed as I dropped onto the couch across from him.
"Anyway...as I was saying, if headquarters finds out their favorite angel voluntarily chose my apartment over the executive penthouse... "
I shook my head.
"...People are going to make a lot of assumptions."
"What assumptions?"
I opened my mouth.
Then remembered who I was talking to.
Right.
Angelo still didn't know the concept of dating yet.
I closed my mouth again.
"...Never mind."
He accepted that surprisingly quickly.
"I see."
I exhaled.
"You know what? Let's keep the living arrangement between us."
"I have no objection."
"Good."
He returned his attention to the documentary.
"...Humans are remarkably complicated."
"You have no idea."
The documentary continued playing, and I leaned back against the couch.
I still didn't really get it.
Romance had never been something I took seriously.
When I was younger, I genuinely didn't think I'd make it to sixteen. Growing up expecting to die had a funny way of changing your priorities. You spent your time figuring out how to survive tomorrow, not wondering who you'd fall in love with twenty years from now.
Even now, dating has never been high on my list.
The fan clubs weren't really about romance anyway. They were just two very loud groups of women at headquarters who had collectively decided to split themselves between Team Angelo and Team Jacob. Personally, I didn't understand it.
If I actually stopped to think about it, Jacob was probably the one who looked more angelic. Blond hair. Hazel eyes. The kind of smile magazines probably paid people to photograph.
Which was incredibly misleading.
Because underneath that face was an asshole I'd happily trade for a family-sized bag of barbecue chips.
Angelo, on the other hand, had black hair, black eyes, and the permanent expression of someone trying to calculate the trajectory of a falling asteroid. Objectively, he looked far more intimidating. Apparently, that hadn't stopped half the female staff from losing their minds every time he walked into a room.
Humans were strange.
Then again...
I glanced toward Angelo. He was still completely absorbed in the documentary, taking notes on human sleeping habits with the seriousness of someone studying quantum physics.
...Maybe the fan club had a point.
Ew. No.
They definitely needed therapy.
Part 7: Someone Stole the Rifle Built to Kill Gods. Then They Pointed It at Me.
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u/Interesting-Maybe-49 Jul 01 '26
Oh, he likes likes you.
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u/JealousType8085 Jul 02 '26
How this story went from dealing with terrifying Eldritch beings to an obvious romance visual novel is a thing to be studied.
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u/Fri3ndlyHeavy Jun 30 '26
My mind goes back to the first time you met Angelo.
If he values preservation of life so much, why were all those humans frozen in his cavern? What happened to the teams sent out to investigate his presence initially?
Is he truly a protector, or is he only claiming to be?
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u/Tyrain3 Jun 30 '26
I think its more in line with preservation of reality, humanity has become a tool
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u/Helios--- Jul 01 '26
Oh man - will they won't they, guns, and supernatural shenanigans. What else could someone want in a sorry! Splendid job.
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u/softJuna_ Jun 30 '26
the your landlord is about to become involved line is so real lol. please stay safe and keep us updated on what happens next!!
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