The front door to the building swooshed open as a man casually strolled in on the marble floor. His gaze was straight on the elevator at the far side of the building, his face was with a blank expression, and his pace was calm, but steady and strong. He went past the reception desk and arrived in front of the elevator. The man pushed the 'up' button, and the needle on the level indicator screen immediately moved.
Seconds past, he started to shift his weight between his legs and tapped his fingers on the handle of his briefcase. He glanced at the watch on his left wrist – three more minutes before 10 PM. He shouldn't be late. He never was before.
The needle seemed to move very slowly. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, trying to calm down and focus. Finally, the elevator gave out a ding, and the door parted open. Quietly, while trying to keep his posture steady, he waited for everyone to come out the elevator, and stepped in once it was empty.
'Finally!' he mentally screamed.
He pushed another button as the door closed and he was lifted to the top floor. After what felt like ages, another ding echoed and the door parted open once again. He stepped out and walked through the corridor, but this time with a much more rushing manner. The silent footsteps thumping on the long carpet of the hallway grew louder and faster, and fear of his boss suddenly welled up in him – it never happened before.
Thirty seconds. That was all he had before he's most likely killed off by his boss. He almost reached the end of the corridor, but time was still not slow enough.
Three… Two… One…
He officially ran out of time.
When he reached the door, he stopped a moment to straighten his suit, and knocked. He waited a moment until he heard a click from the inside. The man allowed himself in and stood straight a few meters away from the working desk inside the room. As soon as the door was shut, a voice came out, strong and stern, from the office chair that leaned back against the desk, facing the opposite side of the room.
"You're late."
"I'm sorry boss," the man almost stuttered. "There was a bit of a hold up at the airport but we took care of—"
"You're late." The voice was now booming, and the firm, sturdy figure of the man was visibly trembling. He dared not reply this time, but he did took a small step backwards when the chair turned around and his boss stood up from his place.
"All I asked you to do," the boss spoke up in a lower voice, "was to send off the money, take the shipping report, and come back before ten."
He suddenly stomped away from behind the desk and towards his worker, angrily inching his ebony-masked face towards his worker's. "And you can't even do that right?" he yelled. He then threw a wild punch at his worker, causing him to grunt in pain and stumble to the floor.
"Idiot."
The masked man strolled over to the gigantic window, watching the night city lights as he gently tugged the lower edges of his black, well-trimmed suit. His eyes made little horizontal movements, and the forehead of his mask almost wrinkled in concentration, as if he was deeply plotting something.
Hearing the movements behind him, he assumed his worker had got up to his feet and dusted himself off.
"Did it reach our destination?" he asked without looking back.
"Y-yes boss," his worker croaked out.
"Put the report on my desk."
In a hurry, the worker scrambled with the lock on his suitcase, pulled out the tin, book-like report, and gently laid it on the desk.
"Now get the hell out of my office."
The worker did not think twice – he locked back his suitcase and swiftly, almost running, made an exit to the door.
Moments later, the boss turned back to his desk, gazing at the report. A hint of smirk of satisfaction curled on the corner of his mask-embedded lips.
He was only a few steps away from victory.