Natalia's car was small, but she didn't mind, she knew it wasn't much to brag about – having gotten it from her sister when she upgraded a few years ago – so she still wiped the snow off the windshield as the engine slowly heated up. She had poured the remainder of the coffee that had been left over into her gray thermos, which was currently lodged between the passenger and driver's seats in the neat little cup holder she always placed it in. Finally, after sufficiently freezing her hands off and soaking the mittens she'd plucked from the glove compartment, it was decided that the windshield was snow-free enough to see through. So she took her place in the cold leather front seat, peeling off her sopping gloves and tossing them aside to dry and be dealt with later, holding her hands in front of the slow-starting heater to make sure she didn't get frost bite.
She strapped herself in and began backing out of her space, driving through the large, deserted parking lot before coming to the exit, and sliding onto the rancid-snow coated road. Quickly coming to a red light just down the street, she paused to sip her drink, smiling at the taste, figuring Alfred had added something extra. Of course, she'd noticed that before, but it wasn't as prominent then as it was now (she had been a tad distracted by the rainbow of a meal, anyways).
As she pressed the gas peddle once again when the red light flickered to green, she tried to force thoughts of the man out of her head. Not that he was a problem to think about, she just knew if she started now, she'd be distracted all day. Her brother wouldn't like it if he had to get her another job – or worse, get her original job back; and everyone already knew the boss – though vapid as he was – disliked her immensely, mostly because instead of working hard to get where she was – which she actually had, to their obliviousness, but that fact seemed to be overlooked by most of her co-workers – her brother had given her a slight boost. Most of the other employees constantly watched her, in the hopes of catching her doing something wrong, she'd been reported for menial mishaps – typing the wrong digit onto a spread sheet, forgetting to return a stapler, etc – but luckily her boss's secretary was a nice woman who would shred those null documents before they got within arms reach of her boss, knowing that most complaints about Natalia were simple annoyances from the other office workers. The secretary had also informed her that she'd overheard a few of her newer co-workers spreading rumors that Natalia had slept with various higher ups to get where she was, which – being as her job was really not all that classy or high in the company food-chain – was insanely preposterous, but she just scoffed and decided to ignore them. Not wanting to have to deal with grown adults acting like pompous school children.
Pushing those thoughts out of her mind as well, she drove past a street sign marked "Morgan Dr," and turned left, a stout office building stood just past a row of houses, she slowed down and drove up to the small booth at the security gate, rolling down the window. Peering out as far as she could over the door, she spied the burly security guard who grumbled slightly as he leaned out the booth window to scan her ID, his rather large stomach pressing awkwardly against the small ledge beneath the window.
He slid slowly back into the large box-like booth, placing the scanner on its stand and flicking a bit of snow out of his thick mustache as he checked the screen, confirming Natalia's ID was legitimate. Seeing that it was, he pressed a button next to the keyboard and the black and yellow pole rose before her, until she could pass, which she did, and immediately headed for her division's assigned quadrant of the parking lot, and then to her personal space.
She turned off the car, tossing the keys into her bag, and grabbed her cup before exiting the vehicle. She started down the bleak looking lot, avoiding as many dark slush-puddles as she could. Feeling the bits of unavoidable flurry soaking into her shoes, she grimaced, knowing that they wouldn't be dry for hours after this.
After what felt like ages of dodging mounds of disgusting colored snow, Natalia finally reached the entrance, scanning her ID card against a small pad next to the door. The pad beeped to let her know the door was unlocked, and she pushed it open to be greeted by a nice burst of hot air.
Briskly walking down the hall, and into her division, she ignored the looming eyes hanging over her as she passed. Knowing they were just staring for the sake of staring, it wasn't worth it to retaliate.
After passing many silent – and sometimes not – watchers, she finally got to the long range of gray cubicle walls, and turned down the first corridor, passing other stations decorated with pictures of children, husbands, wives, and family of all sorts, as well as little nicknacks like snow globes, there was even someone who'd stapled a rubber chicken to the wall (and if she remembered correctly, that was the same young man who'd apparently filled the coffee maker with jello on more than one occasion, and to the utter displeasure of most of the staff).
Finally she arrived at her station, placing her black bag on the desk next to a large monitor, she lightly pressed the silver button on the main computer beneath it. A faint whirring could be heard from the machine, she turned away, picking up her coffee gingerly and sipping it – still warm, she noted – before leaning back in her chair and shutting her eyes, trying to drown out the chatter from the other cubicles and corridors. It was like a busy schoolyard.
After a few moments of unattainable silence, she opened her eyes to see her monitor with the "Select User" screen fully loaded. She lurched forward and clicked on her name, the little password box came up and she quickly tapped the appropriate keys to spell it out. It glided into the "Welcome!" screen, and she sank back once again into her not-half-as-comfortable-as-she'd-like-it-to-be chair to wait for her desktop to load.
She lolled her head to the side and stared at the opening in the cubicle walls that lead out to the corridor, the entrance was almost directly parallel with another worker's – a plump old lady who was known for having an endless supply of Hostess mini-muffins – she peered in to see that the occupant wasn't there. Not really paying that fact any mind, Natalia kicked off and let her chair spin around lazily to face the small shelve opposite her desk – which consisted of a standard supply drawer, hole punch, stapler, and various other office supplies she'd manage to keep (her co-workers weren't exactly fond of sharing, but absolutely adored stealing, it seemed, especially from the fridge in the break room) – she reached over and grabbed a staple remover, and began squeezing it uninterestedly, kicking off once again to turn her chair.
This time she landed in front of her monitor once again, though fully loaded to her desktop this time, which one of her cheerier work-friends – not that she had many – had set up to have a picture of a cartoon snowflake as the background. She stared at it for a moment, recalling what Alfred had said the day before, and everything that had changed, finding these thoughts unavoidable as she stared at the white pattern sitting neatly on a foggy blue screen. She bit her lip, clicking the green icon in the corner and flipping through various windows, until finally, one came up for selecting a background.
Her mouse lingered over the drop-down box that would allow her to select another picture, pending between changing image from the cheesy reminder of the current season and not. Knowing that every time she looked at her desktop she'd be reminded of him (and as she'd noted earlier was one thing that ushered her towards the former idea, but some unrecognizable force kept her from going through with it. She shook her head and ignored it, choosing to close the window and click on one of the icons that dusted the screen. Quickly the company email system came up, and showed five new messages.
Two were from her division leader – a chipper young man who had a prominent obsession with batman – most likely her to-do list for the day and the new-workweek bulletins he was so fond of writing. The others were a message from that secretary, another from her boss, and the last one from another worker in a different division complaining about people taking his lunches and desecrating his limited edition Lost poster he'd waited two weeks in the mail for.
Natalia quickly read through them until the only message left was the one from her boss, requesting her to report to him as soon as she read it. She sighed, taking a brief sip of her coffee before standing up and starting down the rows of gray walls.
At the end of the rows was a long hallway lined with wooden doors, she carefully approached one of the doors on the left, reading the name on the door as the desired one, she entered it, coming into the secretary's office. The young woman looked up and smiled weakly, motioning for Natalia to enter the door to the right of her desk.
She stepped across the dark gray carpeting and up to the door, almost flinching at the startlingly cold doorknob (didn't they have a heating system to prevent that?). Upon entering the room, she was met with a pair of beady eyes deep in their sockets as her superior stood up and walked across the room, he would've looked menacing, but being a full foot shorter than her and fat as a hog wasn't exactly intimidating (and honestly, if he'd had a beard, he would've resembled Santa Clause a startling amount).
"Miss... Arlovskaya. Shocking, how long it takes you to receive a simple message," he droned, crossing his arms over his potbelly.
"Sorry," she mumbled, staring down at him.
"Well, we can't have late employees," he said, his voice was as lively as a cadaver, and bored into Natalia's head like a lazy woodpecker, agonizingly slow but quickly dreadful.
"I'll try harder, sir."
"Yes... Now, aside from you lack of punctuality, I don't have anything truly pressing to ask you about," he growled, as if wishing he had, and she knew it was exactly that, too. "But... I have this letter, from the head of the corporation..." The stout man pulled out a pale blue envelope, and handed to her. She recognized the sharp, near-illegible scrawl across the back immediately, spelling out her last name, her brother's writing stared menacingly at her as she clutched the parcel.
"Thank you, sir..." she mumbled, eyes still lingering on the deceiving light blue of the envelope.
He grunted and motioned towards the door, before waddling back to his heavily polished desk. She took it as a hint to leave (whether it was or not, she was still evacuating the stuffy, air-freshener plagued office as soon as she possibly could) and quickly took the door she'd entered before, not even glancing at the secretary, too preoccupied with thoughts of what bad news could be lurking within those paper walls pressed between her thumb and forefinger.
Finally, after a mindless walk back to her cubicle (which she regretted leaving unattended, as about a third of her pens were absent when she returned), she propped the letter up against the gray false wall and stared, yet again, absently at the large white snowflake shown across her computer screen. Thoughts of Alfred came rushing back as quickly as before, but even more unwelcome this time, she reached out and pressed the power button in the right corner of the monitor, and it faded to black. Sighing, she sank into her chair for a moment, before snatching up the insufferable parcel on her desk, and tearing the overly-strong glue along with the flap it was attached to until she had access to the contents of the now-mutilated envelope.
Inside was a recently printed letter and a check, her stomach lurched as she unfolded the crisp white page. She began read the note, it was typed out exactly as her brother would speak, so much she could hear his voice ominously in her head.
"My dear sister, this is the last rent check I will be providing you with if you do not keep your promise and have the mutt out by the end of the week," it read, she glanced at the check sitting next to her keyboard briefly before returning to the letter. "I will come by on Sunday to make sure of this, and if he is not out, there will be consequences. But until then, I wish you well, Natalia." The letter ended abruptly, uncomfortably, only taking up the very top of the page, quite a waste of paper. After refolding it, she put the letter aside and picked up the check, looking at over before reaching for her bag and slipping it into one of the zipper compartments that lined the inside, then, she also grabbed the crisp refolded paper, and tossed it in as well.
A few moments passed in ear-ringing silence as the seemingly endless chatting of the others in the building had died down. Natalia reached out and pressed the power button on her monitor like she had before, and the cycle began once again with that cartoon snowflake reflecting off her eyes, and familiar thoughts of the blond man humming to life in her head.
Meanwhile, that same man was making his way up the snow-glazed and abandoned sidewalk in silence, his breath visible before him as he went, and hands deep in his jacket pockets. The shops Natalia had mentioned had all refused to hire him, so he had headed further down the street, stopping at any shop he happened to pass, though still, no luck.
He'd ended up in a fairly residential area (if you could call it that), inhabited by many old brick apartment buildings, as well as tiny run down bakeries and farmers markets that had also refused him. He recognized a few little buildings near by from passing them occasionally, back when he had a car (or borrowed Arthur's, as the case may be, he'd sold his car to make his last payment to him). He briefly peered inside a small cafe, which was all but vacant except for a shriveled old lady reading a magazine in the corner, and the scowling young man behind the counter who'd rudely told him to get out when he'd inquired about a job.
Alfred moved on, making his way up a slightly inclined road, hoping he wouldn't slip backwards on the ice and end up sliding down and into the intersection at the base of the hill. That really wouldn't be pleasant, obviously.
He kept walking for the next few blocks in silence, cars occasionally (but very rarely) drifting by as the snow fell again. Stopping at an intersection, he stared down a street, noticing a few places he hadn't tried, he turned an began down the equally bleak street. The first store he came to was a little hobby shop, he scanned the window to find a help wanted sign taped to the corner, and the open sign aglow above it. He grinned and straightened his shirt, padded down his hair, tried to make himself look less like a bum, and opened the door.
The round old woman behind the counter looked up from her magazine as the little bell on the door rang, Alfred stepped up to the counter happily.
"Hi, I'm, uh, here about the sign in your window, I'm looking for a job... So, are you the manager?" He asked, it was quite awkward, as the woman just stared up at him through her large round glasses.
Finally, the woman smiled and hopped off her stool, proving that she was really, really short. She trotted around the counter until she was in front of him, and stopped for a moment, looking him over.
"Mhmm! Very nice!" she said, "Yes, yes, I'd say you'll be of great help..." The woman laughed and nodded. "Well, I suppose we should talk with Harold first..."
"Harold?" Alfred asked, puzzled at, well, everything.
"My husband." she said, he nodded. "Now come, come... He's upstairs." The woman waddled over to a doorway in the corner, which was covered by beads, rather than an actual door, and parted them walking upstairs after quickly motioning for him to follow. He dipped his hands into his pants pockets and was about to when he felt something small and cold brush around his fingers, and paused for a moment.
He pulled the object out to find that it was a silver necklace, the thin chain tied in knots from being crumpled up in the pocket, but the pendant -a dark blue, tear cut stone set in silver, to match the chain- was still perfect. Alfred stared at it for a moment, wondering how it had gotten there, and eventually concluding it was Natalia's. With a final glance he slid it into his jacket pocket and followed after the short woman and up the dark wood stairs.
As he ascended the dimly lit, photograph lined staircase, he couldn't help but think on the necklace, and planned to ask Natalia about it later. He pushed aside that issue as he reached the top of the steps, where the old woman stood, grinning in front of an open door as she merrily chatted with it's occupant, who appeared to be an old man sitting at an antique redwood desk coated with miscellaneous nicknacks.
Alfred took a breath and came forward as the old woman beckoned him over, he gave his best smile and the man returned it calmly, the fan in the corner blowing the few wisps of white hair left on his head.
"So, boy, what's your name?"
I'm just going to start by saying sorry for making my awesome readers wait so long! Gah, I've been busy, and lazy. But now I'm on break, and I hope to actually get stuff done... But no promises.
Anyways, this chapter is insanely boring, I know, and I'm sorry. But don't worry, I actually have a plan for next chapter (and the rest of the story too, shocking, I know), and yeah. And you may have noticed, but I didn't reach the lovely 4000 word combo-goal-thing I'd hoped for, I did try though... and fail.
Also, thank you to everyone who favorited, reviewed, or alerted. You deserve a medal for your awesomeness, a medal made of chocolate (or some other delicious substance).
So, reviews are like cupcakes, and cupcakes are delicious. I don't know what the point of that was, but I want a cupcake now.
Thanks for reading.