- Ministry of Unwanted Ministries Chapter 1 -
I don't normally believe in serendipity, but passing by that uninspired 'Help Wanted' on my weekly stroll down New York was a wakeup call. If I was going to get anywhere in this business I needed to put my name out there, be known in the circles of the New York elite. Name recognition is half the battle and even if I was taking phone calls people would still hear "Hello, this is Rachel Berry. What can I do for you?"
Rachel Berry turned her collar up against the wind, sarcastically thanking whatever God decided that a fierce cold front needed to sweep through the city on her first day of work. At least it wasn't raining, she reasoned as she switched her unused umbrella to her other hand in order to fish her planner from her messenger bag.
Using her body to keep the wind from causing notes and pictures she had pinned to the pages from flying away, the girl eagerly flipped through page after page. On November Eleventh, she found what she was looking for.
An address.
Specifically for the McKinley Building on Lima Street.
She snapped the planner closed triumphantly. First Lima Street, then New York Avenue! All those naysayers be damned, Rachel Berry was going to show everyone the star she knew she was when she finished at university and performed at the Broadway Theatre!
The job was a part-time position, just to make some extra cash in-between classes. Not only that, but she could meet new people, those that could appreciate hard-work and ambition. This paper-pushing life was only going to be the first step in many for Rachel Berry. If, of course, she found the office at all. She hadn't even heard of the department before, outside of the vague whispers about a rogue group that both existed and didn't, but that small matter wasn't too surprising considering how many minute details of life that were governed by the City Council.
She gave herself a cheer as she came to 1111 Lima Street.
The McKinley Building wasn't much of an visual icon compared to those on New York. It was nestled neatly amongst other nondescript structures about five or six stories tall, but prominently stood out thanks to its bright red brick and black and white accents. The building didn't at all look as though it hosted any government functions, but space was tight in the city and the young man she had spoken with over the telephone had insisted that this was the place.
She had been so lost trying to take in the quality of the building itself that she nearly missed the whole reason she had came.
The door was simple and unadorned, sans etched lettering in the glass that read 'Ministry of Unwanted Ministries.' The small government agency seemed rather unwanted itself; the office was tucked away besides a grand entrance of hotel lobby and an equally stunning storefront with clothes that she knew she could never afford.
In the few spare inches between the door frame and the hotel there was a line of buttons that Rachel assumed rang their respective occupants. The boy on the phone hadn't given her a name so didn't know who she was supposed to meet. She lightly pressed down on the top button apprehensively and hesitated before leaning towards the wall to say in her clearest voice, "Rachel Berry."
The speaker buzzed with annoyance causing Rachel to slightly jump back.
"Touchy…" she admonished the machine.
Testing the door handle, she it unlocked and swung open easily, leading to a long narrow stair. There wasn't someplace to hang her coat or her hat… it wasn't even properly lit. The glass in the door only did so much, and what light did filter down from the upstairs was muted and lost on the dark treads.
"Hello?" She called up the stairs. "Rachel Berry! I'm here for the secretary position!"
The shadow of a wiry young man appeared at the top of the flight of stairs. She couldn't make out his face very well, but his silhouette was sharply tailored and lean. He also didn't come down to greet her, so the two looked at each other uneasily until Rachel finally apprehensively made her way up the stairs. He was a handsome young man, no older than she was, with styled chestnut hair and bright eyes. "Welcome. I suppose. You can leave your… coat and hat in the closet to your left," he said professionally.
Now seeing the young man properly, Rachel could tell that he seemed to hold himself in high regard, from his perfectly square tie all the way down to his polished boots. It slightly unnerved her as he critically watched her put away her things, deposited her umbrella in the basket by the door, and composed herself. The boy seemed unimpressed, or bored, Rachel couldn't tell.
"You must be who I spoke with on the telephone…" she began eagerly, attempting to fill the uneasy silence with her own voice.
"This way," he said drolly, turning sharply on his heels and into the main space.
"Alright," she recovered positively. Rachel admired the room, despite the rather dull, and frankly ominous, entrance, the Ministry of Unwanted Ministries actually seemed to have some level of prestige and wealth. Although there were no windows, honey and amber colored lights highlighted the white plaster walls and excessive wooden architectural details around the room. There was lounge furniture near where the two had come from and a single desk in the middle of the room guarding a spiral staircase.
The boy touched the desk lightly, "This is your desk. The door to your left is our conference room and the hallway to your right leads to the bullpen, coffers, and employee break room. The coffers are off limits unless you have a reason to get into one of them, as are the offices upstairs. Fourth floor are the employee apartments, so if you are in need of accommodation I can arrange it for you."
The brunette stepped back flustered, "Apartments? How did you even fit all of this in here?"
"You'd be surprised," he replied uninterestedly.
She shook her head, still amazed that the small door hidden between a hotel and a shop could hold so many rooms. "I live on campus, so that won't be necessary."
"Always available if you need it."
"I'm saving up to move to New York," she smiled genuinely.
"Aren't we all?"
Rachel wanted to say something, but found she just gave him a slight knowing smile. She held out her hand, "I haven't properly introduced myself. My name is Rachel Berry."
"I know," he replied, hesitantly shaking her hand, "You've mentioned it three or four times now."
She smiled, waiting for him to continue. When it was clear he wasn't, she asked, "And you are?"
He gave a small huff and tapped his foot impatiently. "Kurt Hummel. Dispatcher, Caretaker, part-time Investigator, and Architect for Mum."
"Mum?"
"Ministry of Unwanted Ministries. Try to keep up Berry," he teased.
"I hadn't even known that your group existed," Rachel said amiably, trying to take all of the information in.
"Most don't until they do," the young man replied evenly.
Rachel rocked on her heels, looking around the room again.
He smiled congenially and hummed, "Getting straight to the point. The job is exactly what you think it will be… except when it isn't, but that I'll save for later." Rachel raised a concerned eyebrow but didn't have the chance to ask for further explanation as Kurt continued his speech briskly. "You'll sort mail, answer any calling visitors, not that we get many, organize paper and other… things."
He trailed off, looking absently at one of the nondescript corners of the room. His eyes slightly widened as he seemed to remember something, and he reached into his breast pocket pulling out a neatly folded slip of paper. "We also need you to occasionally pick things up. Groceries, office supplies, mundane things such as that. Such as these," he reiterated pressing the paper into the palm of her hand.
"Cherries?"
"Tina's been having a craving for cherries," he explained as though it was perfectly reasonable and that the short brunette should have already known.
"Tina is…"
"One of our investigators, you'll meet them soon enough. They usually wander in around noon. It's a wonder anything gets done at all," he sighed with feigned exasperation. "If you have any questions or concerns you speak to me first or if I'm unavailable you can speak with our resident researcher. His name is Artie, I'm not quite sure where he's run off to, but he'll be around later today."
Rachel tried to process the wave of information, and gaped dumbly at Kurt, "So… I sort mail?"
"Yes."
"And answer calls?"
"Yes."
"And get groceries? Including, but not limited to, cherries, which aren't in season at the moment?"
"They wouldn't be on the list if we didn't want them. Try to find the seedless kind."
"At some point will I need to pick up your dry-cleaning too?" she asked coyly.
"Yes. Ah. That reminds me," he pulled out another small piece of paper, a receipt of some sort. "Thank you, I would have completely forgotten."
"How am I supposed to pay for all this?"
"Company expenses can be paid by check paper. Just be sure to verify Ministry of Unwanted Ministries. The last thing we need is to giveUnnecessary Ministries another reason to complain about us. If you are in need of cash we do have a small locker with enough silver and copper coins for anything you need."
"All… alright," Rachel nodded.
"Keys are in your coat pocket. Lock up when you leave."
"What?"
"Coat pocket, in the coat closet."
"How did they even…?"
However Kurt was already halfway to the hallway with the bullpen and the coffers and the employee break room. "I have some things to do to get your desk set up so make yourself useful and go get those cherries while the markets are still up," he waved as to shoo her towards the staircase, "Go on then, hurry up. Everyone knows morning cherries are sweeter than afternoon cherries and it would be an absolute scandal if that's all you could find."
This had to be a test, Rachel thought with a slight panic. Picking up groceries and dry-cleaning was no better than a personal assistant! And how was it a boy, no older than herself, was all manner titles and the seemingly only person to actually work at the Ministry of Unwanted Ministries? She was convinced she had walked in on a theatre set and she was the only one without a script.
Not only that, but now she had to go back out into the cold. The nerve of Kurt Hummel. She fumed as she tightened the coat sash around her waist.
She had half the mind to just leave and never come back.
The first market she visited was just setting out the tart purple afternooncherries.
The second she went to, father down the Ohio block, didn't have cherries at all.
Kurt's dry cleaning, his chores, were on the way to the third market. At least Rachel could appreciate his taste in fashion, because she certainly didn't appreciate the fact that the new receptionist had to pick the clothes up at all.
Thankfully, she found a small basket of morning cherries tucked away in the corner of the grocery, and wasting no time Rachel marched back to a free register, manned by a sour woman and a male sleepwalker.
"I'm glad you all had these still, this is the third market I've been to and none of them had morning cherries," Rachel said amiably, fishing out a few dollars to give to the cashier.
"Well it is after noon," the cashier deadpanned uninterestedly.
Rachel's smile faltered momentarily, "I realize that. It was still morning when I started looking. 'Lo and behold! I find these! I can't believe my luck! It would have been terrible on my first day to not do the one thing Kurt asked me to do."
The cashier grunted noncommittally as the registered clicked and whirred. A shrill ring sounded as the registered opened the till and handed Rachel her change.
She studied the sleepwalker as he took the cherries from the cashier, and seemed to pause for a moment before wrapping them in a bright red mesh and tying it with an emerald green ribbon. Rachel thanked the sleepwalker, more out of habit than anything else. The man gave no indication of recognition, they never did, but Rachel smiled anyway as she took the bag.
Just around the corner she opened the bag and popped one of the sweet cherries into her mouth. She decided she liked Tina, whoever she was, she had good taste.
She tied the ribbon back into a bow and waltzed all the way back to McKinley.
Rachel had to pause as she nearly ran headlong into a bespectacled young man at the door to the Ministry, catching herself just before one of the wheels of his wheelchair could run over her feet.
"I am so sorry," she said as she backed away from him. She fussed over her coat and made sure she didn't lose any of the groceries. Finally, she looked at him wearing an absolutely idiotic grin on his face. Rachel gaped at him, "Are you…? Are you looking to get into the Ministry? I'm afraid we don't have a lift, that I know of… Would you like me get someone? One of our investigators… Kurt Hummel?"
He waved at her, "Naw, I'm good."
"Alright," she replied tentatively. She shifted the bag of groceries to the other hip as she fumbled with her keys. When he hadn't moved she looked at him critically, "You can buzz upstairs if you're waiting on someone."
"You must be new," he grinned, "Hadn't known we were hiring though."
His statement took her by surprise. "How… how could you tell?" She stammered.
"Ya haven't heard of me yet," he replied simply with a shrug.
She gave a slight chuckle, "Oh? And you are?"
He puffed himself up the best he could, and replied proudly, "Resident researcher. Artie Abrams."
"Receptionist. Rachel Berry," Rachel smirked, "Kurt mentioned you."
"Whatever he told is a lie," Artie joked.
She raised an eyebrow, sparing a glance at him as she found the key. "That's a shame," she replied slyly, "He had said so many nice things about you."
The boy in the wheelchair wasn't fazed in the least and kept up the act, "None of it is true. I make the Mom's bulldogs look like poodles."
Rachel laughed.
He grinned boyishly. "'Sides," he reasoned, "Waitin' on 'Cedes to pick me up."
"… Up the stairs?"
"In a way."
She hesitated briefly, holding the door open for him, "Well alright. If you need anything just knock on the door or buzz then?"
He gave her a curt salute and grabbed the door to hold it for her instead, "Will do boss."
Kurt wasn't in the lobby as she crested the stair, so she took her time putting away her coat and the dry cleaning.
Making her way down the main hall, Rachel found the bullpen empty and the break room equally so. She had tried the door to the first vault, despite Kurt's warning not to, but found it locked. She didn't try the other vaults, reasoning that they were locked too, and so wound her way back to the break room.
Infuriatingly, even the ice box was empty too, and Rachel wondered if anyone actually worked at the Ministry.
Leaving the cherries in the icebox, Rachel meandered back to the lobby, stopping every few moments to look for clues as to the Ministry's inhabitants and purpose.
Finding none, Rachel finally collapsed at her empty desk and looked out to the empty lobby. There was a quiet shuffling upstairs, but it was too muted to discern what or who could be making the sound. She wondered if Kurt would be by.
She glared briefly at the plain phone, the only object on her desk.
She willed the phone to ring.
Surprisingly… it did.
"Hello, this is Rachel Berry for the Ministry of Unwanted Ministries. What can I do for you?"
"Oh. I'm sorry. I must have the wrong number."
She sank into her chair, "Ah, that's… that's alright."