I emerged from the tunnel behind a diner, a landmark I immediately recognized when I saw its metallic and neon reflection in parked car windows. I had spent a lot of time here in high school, the hangout of choice when practice was over but curfew was still an hour away. I shook off the nostalgia, knowing that whatever awaited me here tonight was not going to involve friends, grilled cheese, or crass jokes. I stepped through main entrance and swept the room, hoping to see a familiar face, preferably the agent who sent me here in the first place. He said it was a mission - my first - but gave me no instructions. All I knew was that something was about to happen here that could destroy the world, and I had to stop it. The interior was shiny and reflective, that classic Jersey diner style which caused jump-scares in corners when you caught a glimpse of your reflection in multiples. This could be helpful, I thought, having a view of all angles. I waved off the hostess, who did...