If you had told Anita weeks, days, or even mere hours before that she'd be spending her morning chasing a "moving mountain" across the busy streets of the place she called home, she'd laugh herself right into a hospital visit. But that's what the young woman was doing, like a baker following the ever-troublesome gingerbread man.
Sweat dripped delicately down her face, but she didn't bother to wipe any of it away and risked having the skin of a soaked balloon. Her muscles ached, but she refused to rest for even a second; if she did, she'd lose it. Something was compelling her not to give up; something was telling her that whatever this thing was, living or paranormal, criminal or not, it would lead her to a new kind of life.
The persistence was paying off, as the peach colored mound with tufts of green on either side was losing covering. Sooner or later it would have to expose itself completely. And when that time came, she'd be just behind.
~*~
About fifteen hours prior, it had been a typical Friday evening. With not much to do with herself after finishing her favorite book for the tenth time, Anita was just settling down with some snacks for munching and a Hollywood blockbuster, when the doorbell rang.
"Anita!"
"Alphonse, this is such a surprise. What brings you here?"
The slightly plump, dark skinned man kissed her softly on the cheek. "My dear Anita, do I really need a reason to see you? I hope you received the roses I sent you." Alphonse was Anita's boyfriend, who hailed from Italy.
She giggled. Somehow he had this power to make her feel nervous and new, like a schoolgirl experiencing first love. "Oh yes, they were beautiful. How is your exhibit going?"
Not only was Alphonse one of the only true, old fashioned gentlemen left in the world (the kind that opened doors, pulled out chairs and never pushed for anything. Anita did protest that she could do things for herself, but with Alphonse she let it slide most of the time), he was also an artist. He wasn't famous yet, but true geniuses were never truly understood, or so he claimed. Though, what he specialized in was not typical in the least and that had a hand in holding his career back. While many artists used paint and other standard materials, Alphonse preferred the bizarre. Nobody else could claim they'd made a chair entirely out of chewed carrot scraps (not meant to be used or sat on, as a few patrons learned the hard way), or a ball of fuzz created from nose hair from his own personal stash.
His eyes shined with passion. "Wonderfully, just wonderfully. I only wish you had been at the unveiling party." Alphonse frowned and held her hands in his own. "It's so lonely when you aren't with me."
Unfortunately, because Alphonse was still living in his native country, they didn't get to see each other very often. It wasn't as though he wouldn't fly over any time she wanted him to if he could, but the job was draining and constant (not to mention the small income didn't allow for it), and it was only on the rare occasion that he got to see her. It was the age old "long distance relationship."
She looked at him sadly. "I know, Alphonse, and I'm sorry. But you know I could never leave England to live with you. At least, not at this point in my life."
"I understand, Anita. You are still young, and there is much time ahead of you. I can wait."
They wandered into the kitchen area, Anita offering him something to drink. After two glasses of wine had been poured, they sat down on the couch to chat further. Eventually the topic moved to Anita's job.
She tapped her glass with a fingernail. "Something is off."
"Perhaps, my dear Anita, you should start looking for another job?" Alphonse suggested.
"I thought of that, but honestly I'm not finding anything that calls out to me."
"Hmm..." he looked thoughtful. "I think I shall sculpt something for my next show. It will be called 'Anita in anguish.' Do you happen to have any stray hairs in a brush I could use?"
"Um... probably. Wait here, I'll go see." She stood up to walk away.
"By the way," her boyfriend called after her, "I'm going to see the sights tomorrow to find inspiration. Would you like to come?"
She laughed. What a silly question! "Of course I would."
~*~
Alphonse had only left her for a few moments to check out a particularly captivating stain on the sidewalk when her adventure had began.
Faster and faster moved the prey, at a speed that should not have been possible. Still the female James Bond persisted in the game, pumping and pumping her body to move around the oblivious passerby scattered in every possible place they could fit, and she was honestly perplexed why nobody noticed. After all, they were the ones giving it camouflage!
Almost... just a little bit... Anita thought to herself. There!
Her trail had led her to a very nondescript building, with dull brown bricks on the outside. Faded shadows of lettering rested above the door where the original source had obviously fallen off a long time ago. Because of the weather not being able to get through, the imprint of what had been written was still there, just barely; it was too messy to make out. However, there was no mistake that what she was following had come through there. Time to find out what it was and what it was doing in such a place.
The inside gave no answers, to Anita's dismay. There was nothing special or standout-ish; not a single thing. The walls and floors were uncreative, bland, corporate colors (Anita would not have been surprised if their factory names started with "dull." In more likelihood they were probably something like "cream blend" or "dove white" to sound more interesting) that sort of ran together in one big block. There were a few out of place chairs in a crooked line and some very plastic plants in dusty black pots.
Whoever the decorator was, hopefully they've been fired... if they're even still alive.
On one wall there was a sliding glass window (noticeably scuffed and covered in finger prints), something implying that room was once (or, doubtfully, still was) a waiting room, and Anita went to walk up to it and rap on it to see if she could find a person to talk to. A minute or so passed, and she rapped again, harder and louder.
"Hello? Is anyone there? I'd like to ask a few questions," she said, straining her voice to convey great curiosity.
Some loud and frantic scurrying could be heard on the other side, but still no human was there. Then, a small hand slid the window open from seemingly out of nowhere. It belonged to a very short woman who looked like a purple grape in a pickle jar. In other words, she did not belong. Her clothes were bright and unmatched, hair in a sloppy gray bun that threatened to fall out any second, and glasses that lay straight on the edge of her nose. The strangest part was her eyelashes. Were they taped on to the glasses?
"Yes, yes? What is it, what is it? No time, no time!" She spoke in an annoyed, heavily accented voice.
Anita backpeddled a bit, now caught with nothing to say; she hadn't quite planned this far. "Um, my name is Anita, and I was just wondering-"
"Closed, closed! Come back later, fraeulein!" She was gone before Anita could speak again.
"How could there be a later in this place? What an incredible woman." Anita shook her head. Did she dare play the Alice card and continue her journey down the rabbit hole? The unlocked door next to the sliding window answered that.
~*~
The hallway was long, thin, and claustrophobic in that you could touch either wall with your elbows if you spread them out a bit. There weren't even any numbers on the endless supply of doors. Anita would've bet her life savings that the building was abandoned if not for the frizzy little secretary. If people were working there, just what were they doing?
"und... then you must be careful..."
Was that a voice? It was faint and didn't give the impression that it came from a specific door. Anita could feel the adrenaline coursing through her body. Was this excitement?
"I feel like I'm on some kind of secret mission," she said to herself. She began to check each door, most opening to pitch black or a random stack of boxes or other office supplies. Thanks to her patience, the voices gradually became louder. She had to be near!
"I tell you again und again... but you don't listen..."
From what she could tell, there were two people, both male. One was younger. Both she'd swear she had heard before.
There! She'd found the right door!
"You weren't supposed to talk to her, just check the area." The older man screamed "scientist," wearing a standard issue white lab coat and wielding a long stick, which was either for lectures or a cane for his troubles. Anita couldn't help but notice his bald head that still had a faint shout-out to what color his hair was - green. Was he... ?
The younger man sat on top of a large, bulky object concealed by an orange cloth, twiddling his thumbs and acting the part of a reprimanded toddler. His lips pursed. "It wasn't my fault, I mean..."
Something inside Anita snapped.
"You!" It had been a long time since she'd last seen him, but it was unmistakable.
Victor Volt.
What is Victor doing there, and what's the mystery behind the building? Why does Anita know the scientist? You'll just have to wait and find out :) Feedback is not required (I'm not going to refuse to post the next chapter or anything) but it's ALWAYS appreciated. If you see any mistakes in this chapter, let me know. Thanks!