It was not uncommon for things to go missing at Wammy's. There wasn't a single resident within the large complex who hadn't misplaced something of utter insignificance that would eventually take the role of some importance in ones mind during a time of complete absolute boredom. Things seemed to gain significance during periods of time that were spent cleaning ones dorm, whose resident finally realized that six month molded piece of uneaten toast commonly preferred not to be in an unopened sock drawer.
Though this was not always the case—or at least this time it wasn't. The objects that were found misplaced were, for a first, actually significant.
One might say that countless strips of bank information that had been in the head's private office could have no value whatsoever. But these numerous strips of bank information were connected to a quite large sum of money sealed away in a vaulted cell somewhere in one of the many bank vaults of some unknown European bank of some sort, who had gained reputation throughout the countless generations of bankers who did business with prominent government officials. And whoever had access to the strips of bank code had a higher change of getting access to the money.
No. This time the objects that went missing were important…very important. The money was under the unknown name of a famous detective whose was never seen by anyone they did a case with.
The person who had taken the bank strips didn't seemed to be satisfied with their catch for over the following days less significant but still very expensive and prominent artifacts went missing. The famous 1896 oil painting that had always greeted people in the main entrance had disappeared over night along with the large gold leaf picture frame that had encased the painting. Along with colonial putter candlesticks, an oriental rug from a time when there still was a Persian empire, countless amber shards from Mr. Wammy's private collection, random parts of a 1930s car that had been fully restored, random assorted knickknacks and folded bills that happened to be lying around during the times of the stealing had been stolen as well.
One of the stolen knickknacks happened to be a young boy's tin wind up robot that would make its way across the floor in painstaking millimeters and then would end falling flat on its face. It's not like it was a splendid invention or a wonderfully amazing toy. No it was anything but that. Out of the boy's collection it was the runt of the pack and was rarely played with. Actually, the boy was glad that it was stolen; it saved him a trip to the garbage bin. No he didn't mind the fact it was stolen; it was his roommate that noted the disappearance of the toy robot as another thing to add to the list of missing objects that would never be recovered. His roommate usually would never be bothered with a situation like the one that was occurring, but certain things came into light that made it a problem.
The problem was that the money that the boy's roommate had been painstakingly saving with every bit of spare change that came across his way had disappeared. The goal of money had almost been reached until the roommate found his room had been stripped of his savings. He could almost smell that new plastic that would have encased his new game console. He wouldn't have to use duck tape to prevent the batteries from falling out. The untouched buttons would still be stiff as he'd play the first level of one of the countless games he had already beaten. The key pad would have no finger or grease marks upon it. And the screen that would project the electronic world to him wouldn't be dimmed by the loose wires!
All of that was now gone. The only thing he had been saving up for months. All the money and the effort…worthless. His current console had lived its last moments only a few days ago. It was during the evening dinner did the console use its final battery power and shut off—forever.
Now he was with nothing. Absolutely nothing. Never had he felt such emptiness within his pockets where his console would have nestled. Now his pockets contained nothing but small remnants of lint.
He tried to consult Roger; asking if he could be reimbursed for the time being or until he resaved the money for the console. But since his money wasn't the only thing stolen, the other (one could opinionatedly say more significant) objects had to be recovered first.
"You have to understand the situation we're in right now Matt." Roger said. "Until we recover the other objects, the one being most important, the bank strips, we can't replace the other objects."
Of course Matt understood. He wished he didn't understand but it wouldn't change the situation for the better. If anything it'd make it more frustrating.
"Yes." Matt wasn't sure if Roger knew what his 'yes' meant. But he felt like being curt would be the only way to show he saw angry without actually getting in people's way. That way they'd still know he was angry but they wouldn't be annoyed with him for him being in the way.
Yet—Matt knew no matter how angered he was it wasn't going to change the current situation. Things were still disappearing and by the time they found the bank strips and the criminal responsible for the stealing, the special once in a life time discount for the game console will have ended.
He never felt that there was a need to consult anyone about his feelings or even express his emotions to anyone, but the situation had taxed him—not to his limits but to the general midpoint where half a mile or so later would be his limits.
"Its just so—." Instead of finishing his sentence Matt ended up slamming his head against the desk in his room out of frustration.
His roommate, Near looked up from his usual wide eyed gaze into one might say nothingness and pondered the sound of Matt's head hitting the table again in his mind and wondered if his roommate would regret his latest action.
Near shifted his weight as he felt his feet falling asleep on him; again he looked up at where Matt was sitting at the desk and still pondered the noise Matt's head made. He at first decided not to respond, but sensed that his roommate was actually distressed about the current events and finally concluded that the future events would turn out better if he responded to Matt's dilemma. Though before Near responded, he wondered why Matt would confine such thoughts to him, Near, who (through Near's own observation of himself) rarely expressed emotions of the positive or negative spectrum.
"It would make more sense if instead of trying to recover the stolen objects, if one were try to trace the criminal and find him. If one were to do that you'd have access to the location of all the stolen items."
Matt didn't respond at first. There were two reasons for this. One his brain was throbbing from his head's previous encounter with the desk. And two; from the excitement he got as he began to plan a certain course of action to take. This course of action would have two positive attributions to it. One it did not require a waiting period that he would have to endure if he followed Roger and Mr. Wammy's course of action. And two Matt was quite positive of this fact, that if he were to follow his plan he would be able to get his game console before the sale ended.