AN: Hello once again, and happy Monday (just kidding, there's no such thing as a happy Monday). Anyways I'll probably be changing the rating from T to M on Friday, so heads up. More importantly, thanks for reading and please enjoy the chapter:
The static still hadn't died down by the time I got to my destination.
This was funny for the first minute, now it's just ridiculous.
Ridiculous you say.
Just cut the funny business. I need to look at least a little bit professional for the next half hour, can you keep it in line for that long?
The building in front of me was the office of a small and local news paper. With any luck I could go back to freelance journalism and use that to collect information about the CEO. If I got really lucky I might end up in a position to absolutely destroy him. Needless to say I needed this job and wasn't moving until I got a response.
Fine, as long as I get my fun in the end.
Knowing that that was as close to as a promise that I was going to get, I opened the door and went into the lobby. It was a small room, there was no receptionist desk, instead it was occupied by a flight of stairs, an elevator, a few chairs, and a directory mounted to the far wall. I walked to the directory, it took me a second but I eventually found the suite number for the papers office.
They were on the third floor. Now knowing where I was going I walked to the elevator. I wasn't but three feet away when the doors drifted apart by themselves.
I said no shenanigans. I gave a mental warning.
I'm only being helpful.
I had to work to suppress a grumble as I stepped onto the elevator, which closed and moved to the third floor on it own accord.
No one interrupted the ride, though that was probably due to the Walrider's interfering with the elevator more than anything. That thinking was reinforced when the doors slid open. The room was mad with people. Interns ran back and forth hauling mountains of papers, ninety percent of the deskspace help pillars of files, the remaining ten percent was a sea of coffee mugs. Computer screens flickered on and off and the din of ringing phones nearly drowned out the drone of printers and flood of voices.
It was hectic and messy and disorientating.
I hadn't felt so at home in months.
Without so much as a second thought to all the chaos I stepped forward. I was looking for the editor's office; I'd gotten a foot in the door thanks to a friend of a friend and they were expecting me. About half way through the floor I spotted a back room that had windows set in the wall facing the interior of the building. As I came closer it became clear that there was an engraving on the door that read "editor in chief"
Bingo.
Weaving my way through a forest of desks and papers I eventually came to the door. Just before I knocked to enter I stopped for a second
Ok, listen up. When we go in there, I'm going to need to know what to say. I've heard that this guys really particular about who he lets freelance for him, and it'll be even tougher for me because I can't bring anything to the table for him.
What happened to no shenanigans?
Don't get cute. Besides, if I don't get this job you're going to have to wait for who-knows-how-long before anything exciting happens.
It was after an uncomfortable pause that the walrider replied fine in a way that made me sure I was going to regret it later.
Taking a deep breath I knocked on the door. A short second later a call came from inside to enter. As I took a step inward I noticed a few things. One, it was unexpectedly dim in here. Two, the walrider was no longer with me, it had gone looking for information, where exactly it found it still wasn't clear. I didn't know if it actually read people's minds or just did a really good job of sherlock-ing information out of its surroundings. Three, the editor and chief wasn't at his desk.
Instead a younger looking woman sat behind the heavy dark wood.
Apparently I had hesitated too long before saying anything because she spoke first "You got something to say, or are you just wasting my time?"
Needless to say I'd been caught very off guard "uh...I'm looking for Mr. Harding"
She gave me a very unimpressed stare "...and?"
That's Trisha Harding.
"...and you're his daughter, obviously."
She did not look impressed.
"Ok, I'm going to cut to the chase here." I tried to shake of my surprise "I had an interview, for right now, right here. Today."
"Right," she stood up from behind the desk then continued on "here's how this is going to go. You're going to walk out of this room. You're going to knock. I'll ask you in, again. Then you're going to introduce yourself like someone who knows what manners are. After that I'm going to let you know you didn't get whatever kind of work you came in here looking for and you're going to leave. Understand?"
Wow, that was fast.
I felt the walrider come back to me more than anything.
We should just leave and then go destroy the CEO and the court house. You know, for stress relief.
Between the unexpected response and the Walrider it took a minute for any words to make their way to my mouth.
"Now wait just one fucking second." fortunately for me they were the most polite and well considered words I could've imagined.
My response surprised her enough to make a solitary eyebrow arch.
"I didn't come all the way out here to have someone shoot me down the minute I walked in"
I don't think she wants to listen. Too bad, let's go.
You get back out there. We're staying.
There was a distinct angry grumbling before I felt a lack of the Walriders presence.
"Ok, mister" Trisha was talking again, she had an emphasis on the word mister that made me think she wanted to throw acid in my face "I don't like it when people come in here telling me how to do my job. And I'm not about to take that from some nobody who stumbled through my door. So give me one good reason why I shouldn't get the three biggest guys in the next room to haul your ass down stairs and toss you out in the snow."
She doesnt like being told what to do or think.
No shit sherlock.
"because…"
she crossed her arms and scowled. I didn't want to keep her waiting
You got anything?
This is her father's business, he's in the hospital. She wants to prove that she can run this place herself.
"Because I could be useful."
She had a look that seemed to say "go on…"
"I'm experienced, so you don't have to waste time teaching me the ropes. I'm not asking for much in the way of pay, and…"
"and this all sounds like a very boring, very poorly thought out pitch." she sat back in her seat "you can see yourself out."
"no" I stood in place.
"Come again?"
"No, I'm not moving" I wasn't above acting like an insubordinate teenager, more than anything I just needed to stall until the Walrider could dig up something useful.
Just before Trisha had the time to make another threat the office door swung open.
"Hey Trish, I'm about to head out. There any specific shots you want me to get or-" he realized that I was standing in the room and that his boss looked like she was about to set someone on fire out of sheer force of will, "who's this?"
"Nobody" she answered without braking the death glare she had on me.
"Hi, I'm Miles" I held out my hand in greeting, completely ignoring Trisha.
The guy was obviously confused but shook my hand. "There anything I need to know about?" He asked Trisha while avoiding me.
She glanced at him "not now Frank." then she looked back at me "he was just leaving"
"Was I?" The snarking just kind of slipped out.
We probably should leave. This place is a waste of time.
It wouldn't be if you made yourself useful.
…
"That's it, go get Hank and Barry. Get this guy out of here" Trisha had apparently had enough.
It looked like I was on my own, "If you toss me out of here, I'll just go to the Chicago Daily"
"And why would I give a damn if you do that?"
It was obvious that she hated me, it seemed bad enough that even if I could bring something big to the table she might still tell me to take a hike. But, if I convinced her that I would help out her competition she might take me on just to spite them.
"you should care because I can get you a direct line to Chealsy Ryan"
She arched an eyebrow, "you're bullshitting me"
"Hand me a phone and I can get her on the line, right now, no questions asked."
Chealsy had become something of a figurehead for the footage, she was finally getting all the attention she had wanted and an interview from her was something a lot of reporters would kill for.
Trisha stood stock still, I was pretty sure she still thought I was desperately grasping at straws, which I kind of was.
Frank was the first one to break the silence "no lie, eh? Hey Trish, maybe we should hand him a phone, just to see whether or not he's legit."
She still glared daggers at me, and after what seemed like forever she finally handed me the phone that sat on the corner of her desk.
"You get one chance or you're out the door"
"naturally" I mumbled as I typed in the number to Chealsy's cell.
Holding the old phone to my ear I waited for her to pick up. An awkward silence grew and I started to worry that she wasn't going to pick up. After five rings she finally answered.
"It's early" from the sound of her voice she was ninety percent asleep.
"well wake up," that drew some weird looks from Frank and Trisha "I need you to talk to someone for a second."
"wait a minute, who the hell are you?" she was starting to wake up.
"It's Miles, who else would be calling at odd hours of the day from a random number?"
"ah, I thought that sounded like you Mr. Upshur. What do you want? It's six in the morning and I need my beauty sleep."
I probably should have accounted for the time difference between Chicago and L.A. before calling, but this was important "oh, not much, remember how you got Christoff to convince Mario to tell Wilson to set up a meeting with that paper in Chicago?"
"...yes" Chealsy had that tone in her voice that told me I was about to get an angry talking to
"well, I might of made an ass of myself."
My comment drew a short laugh from Frank.
Chealsy gave a heavy sigh from the other end of the line "what do you want me to do about it?"
"Not much, just talk to the person I'm about to hand the phone to, her name is Trisha and she runs the paper"
"Did you volunteer me for something I didn't know about, you know I hate it when people-"
"ok sounds great, here she is" I stopped listening and quickly handed to phone to Trisha across the desk.
Within a second of getting the phone Trisha had pulled out a note pad and pen, before she spoke she pointed at me and then the door.
"I think that's our cue to wait outside" Frank told me form my side.
Without comment I followed him back into the main room. As I walked out of the room the Walrider started back up again:
You're really set on wasting our time with this paper.
I didn't get the time to think of a response before Frank spoke up.
"So how'd you end up with Chealsy Ryan's phone number?"
"oh, you know. She's something of an old friend" as I spoke I took quick stock of how Frank looked, medium-large build, about my height. He could have been a football player back in high school.
"You say that like everyone knows somebody who's at the front of national news"
"Trust me kid, stick around in journalism long enough and you'll realize that everyone does"
A bit of an awkward silence settled between us, the Walrider took the opportunity to speak up, again.
There's no reason to be here.
I already told you, I want to collect information on the CEO before we go in guns blazing, is that so hard to wrap your head around?
No, I just don't believe that that's your only reason.
Come off it already.
No. This is a waste of time and you know it.
I wouldn't have to be talking people into helping me out of you would just do what I ask
I'm not a dog meant to go out and fetch on your command
Obviously, you're much too stubborn to be as useful as a dog.
Don't worry, I learnt to be stubborn from you.
I'm flattered.
"Hello? Anyone home?"
"What?" I looked up to realize that Frank was looking at me with a question in his eyes.
"You blanked out there for a second"
"Sorry about that, I was just caught up thinking"
"Ok, I was afraid I'd asked a personal question or something"
"No, why? What was it?"
"I just couldn't help but notice that your sleeve is ripped to shreds."
I'd nearly forgotten about the mugging from earlier, "Oh, right. Funny story about that actually…"
"and that would be?"
I needed to come up with something, fast. Just as I opened my mouth to say some nonsense excuse the door to Trisha's office opened back up.
"Ok, you're in" She told my without a hint of humor.
"It take it Chealsy gave me a sparkling recommendation" I might have laid the sass on a bit thick.
"Well, she did say that you were a stubborn asshole, childish, and pathologically incapable of common sense"
Charming.
"But she said you weren't completely useless, so you've got the job."
"...I'll have to send her a fruit basket as a thank you."
A cell phone began to buzz "I'd send her more than that if I were you" Trisha warned, just before answering her phone.
Frank started up talking again, "Well, if you're not the luckiest bastard I've ever met, I don't know who is."
"Oh if you only knew."
"So, from one reporter to another, how'd you get Ryans phone number?"
I looked at him "from one reporter to another, it pays to keep your sources confidential."
That drew a look from Frank that seemed to say 'oh, you're going to be that kind of guy'
"but" I continued "if you have to know, me and Chealsy go way back. I first met her back in the 90s"
1993.
"'93 to be exact."
"So you could say she's an old friend?"
"Something like that"
Just as Frank was about to open his mouth to ask another question Trisha came back into the conversation, phone neatly tucked away and out of sight.
"There's a press conference in half an hour at the county court house, Frank you're taking Miles, go get your things. Miles, come with me; we need to get you a temporary press pass"
Before Trisha had the time to walk away Frank spoke up "Don't stick me on new guy duty. This is important, shouldn't you send Veronica or Shane, they've covered conferences before."
Trisha didn't talk back, instead opting to send a glare that demanded she not be questioned.
Frank got the message, muttered a half-assed apology, and walked away.
That left me with Trisha.
"Walk with me" she said before moving without looking to see if I was following.
I did follow, actually I had to jog a couple of steps to catch up.
"The press conference is about the Murkoff trials."
Suddenly I felt the Walrider front and center in my mind
"That's a big thing to put a new guy on."
I was happy about the assignment, but I'd learned to be extremely wary when things seemed to be going smoothly.
"It is, but Ms. Ryan said you knew a thing or two about the situation."
"What exactly did she say?"
Trisha lead me through a door and into a smaller office "if you start asking questions like that I'll think you have something to hide."
The comment reminded me that I needed to play nice when I was talking to people, something I'd forgotten how to do during the past months.
I tried to play it off, "I'm a reporter, asking questions is how I pay the rent."
The sad attempt at lightening the mood was not lost on Trisha, who stood over a computer.
"How do you spell your name?"
I told her
"Ms. Ryan didn't go into detail. Besides, I prefer to get my information straight from the source."
A plastic press pass slid out of the large printing device that occupied a corner of the room.
As Trisha picked it up to hand it to me she hesitated "so, what makes the Murkoff case so personal?"
The Walrider's presence had been getting harder to ignore since we'd been in the hall. Memories of my weeks on the run with Waylon flashed in my mind, the sight of that damned lab they had me locked up in is where my thoughts crashed to a stop "long story short? I knew somebody that Murkoff didn't mind killing."
She handed me the pass "I don't think you're telling me everything."
Before I had the chance to respond she left the room.
We're killing the CEO today.
I didn't respond. I walked into the hall.
The second we see him, we kill him.
I leaned up against the wall. I didn't talk back.