A/N: I am so sorry for any inconvience on my part. I meant to upload this sooner, but my computer crashed and I had to start again from scratch. I solemnly swear that I will never be this late ever again (at least until my computer throws another hissy fit).

Claude 'K' Winchester was sitting alone in his office writing a letter to a producer that was supposed to pull some strings to get Bad Luck on his show. If all else failed, the enclosed bullet would probably add a little extra incentive.

Although the fact that K had become known among the producing circle as someone who would quickly, and cheerfully, use enclosed bullet, or one remotely like it, the letter was a good nudge in the right direction as well. There's no better wake-up call than an insane American attempting to assasinate you.

Well, a nice cup of Folgers coffee would probably be safer...

But since when had K ever allowed someone to take the safe route? Besides, one could still managed to burn their tounge on the coffee. That wouldn't feel nice either. You'd be alive, but in horrible mouth pain!

So here K was, thinking about what to write to the lovely producer that was hindering his star's progress. It had to be something completely simple, so that such a feeble minded person could understand it. Yes, feeble minded. Anyone that wouldn't jump at the chance to have Bad Luck on their show had to have some sort of brain damage in K's opinion. But the letter also had to say that there would be dire consequences should the man still refuse.

Suddenly K began writing.

It took him less than five seconds to compose the note he'd been pondering over for the past hour and a half, but he was sure it would get his point across in such a way that there would be no room for confusion or refusal.

The note read:

'BOOM!'

K smiled to himself as he licked the envelope shut and placed it in the pile of letters to be sent to various places all over the world. What? K had pen pals, too, ya know. Quite a lot of them by the looks of things.

Anyways...

He was just about to continue on to whatever he did during the time that he wasn't supposed to be hanging out with any musicians when there came a knock upon his door... Oh! I used proper English! Cool...

But that's not the point.

The point is that there was someone knocking on his door when there really shouldn't be.

Little known fact, no one goes to K. K goes to them. So, therefore, there was no reason for anyone to wish to visit him in his broomcloset... I mean... office... Yes, office... It was against all protocol for someone to even entertain the idea of entering K's sacred workplace. Except the janitors... But that's a different story.

So obviously, K was confused.

He contemplated throwing a hand grenade at the door, but remembered that Tohma had told him that if he ever damaged the building in any major way ever again, he would be fired. Apparently, the producer hadn't really liked having one of his buildings demolished like he'd claimed to the public.

He also considered pretending to be gone. That way there was no reason for whoever it was on the other side of the door to intrude in his sacred workplace. Then K could pull the video stream for his hallway to find out who it had been to interrupt him so rudely, neglecting to mention the fact that he wasn't doing anything at the time. It would also give him the upper hand to meet on the other person's ground uninvited.

In the end, he chose to remain silent. Whoever it was couldn't, and wouldn't, stay out there forever.

Would he?

Well, as it turned out, the person on the other side of the door wasn't going to stand there forever. In fact, he was merely being polite by knocking first rather than immediately kicking open the door like he'd wanted to from the beginning. Sometimes he wished he could just do things his way all the time, it would be much more interesting that way.

A loud crash rang out and the random workers on that floor paid it no mind. When you've been working in the same building as K for as long as they had, you became used to odd noises and gunfire. The door to K's office swung open, banging against the wall before swinging to an abrupt stop.

K was stunned for the first time in his life.

"Mister K, I presume?"

The blond blinked three times exactly. He slowly rose to his feet and slowly reached his hand in the direction of his shoulder holster. "Yes, I am Mr. K.Was there something you wanted?"

The man adjusted his black tie and pushed his dark sunglasses further up on the bridge of his nose. K tensed as the other man's hand went for his pocket. "There is a matter of great importance that I would like to discuss with you. That is, if you don't mind."

"I should be the one asking you questions. You just broke into my office when it was very clear that I didn't want any visitors. I could have you arrested." He pulled out his favorite Magnum. "Or I could just shoot you and no one would be the wiser."

"I would greatly appreciate it if you would place your weapon back where it belongs. There we go... Nice and easy... Hands where I can see them." K smiled grimly as he complied, choosing to see where this little game was going before springing into action. It wasn't like hehappened to haveweapons of mass destruction hidden anywhere else on his person... Nooooo...

That was sarcasm by the way...

The mysterious man reached back into his pocket. "Now, I am going to show you something and I want you to tell me the truth, okay? Good." He pulled out a picture and tossed it carelssly on the desk. "Do you recognize this bag of potato chips?"

What the hell...?

"I've eaten thousands of potato chips in my lifetime. How do you expect me to recognize a specific bag?" K asked, which was a really good question considering. Seriously, what kind of idiot would burst into your office just to show you a picture of a bag of potato chips that you may or may not have eaten or touched. All those bags were identicle! "Better yet, why the hell does it matter?"

Ah, a good question K-san. A very good question.

"That is none of your business. Suffice to say that you have something we want." Mysterious Matrix Man said calmly as he adjusted his sunglasses.

"Let me guess... You want it back, whatever it is." The man nodded. "Can you prove I have this... er... Bag of chips that you want so badly?"

The man pulled out his gun and trained it on the American. "Don't move. We know you've got it, so don't even bother to lie."

This is fast going way past the bizzare stage into the totally fucking crazy relm. But K froze anyways. It wouldn't do to get his head blown off over something as assinine as a bag of chips that he'd probably already thrown away."

"That's good... Very good." The man smirked. "Where's your precious bag of potato chips now, Mr. K? Where are they now?"

And, as quickly as he had come, the man was gone, leaving a very confused manager and an even more confused narrator... That was weird...

And then, for the second time that day...

Someone knocked on the door.

"God damn it, K! Don't shoot us!"