The lights flicker as Agent Rico wonders, is this the rest of his life? Melodramatic for the end of his first day, but it feels appropriate. He puts a file away, and in his prephial, he sees something fall. He turns, remembering an instance where a mechanical beaver almost ate his head off on a mission, and jumps back.
There's no one. On his desk is a roach, about two inches big. It lays on its back, feet pointing to the ceiling. Rico lifts the folder he was about to put away and raises it high. The roach doesn't move. Its feet drop, either accepting its fate or unable to change it.
Rico stares at it for too long. He recognizes that if anyone were to step in at this moment, he would look like a staring contest between man and bug. Rico tucks the folder and the roach back and flips it over, ensuring none touches his hand.
The roach doesn't move. At this moment, Rico notices a small piece of cloth on its back. Rico squints as he can swear it looks like it is tied around him like a cloak. The roach looks up, and Rico swears it nods before limping away.
A knock comes from the office door, and before Rico can answer, it swings open. Edward walks up to his desk with a smidgen of pep in his step. This is brought on as Edward is thrilled with the idea of clocking out. His day was filled with interviews about the appearance of sea witches in a cafe that got really ugly, relationship-wise, and gory. He is working out the final details but didn't come down here to chat about his work. He noticed the piles of files now marked with green tape.
EDWARD
Busy day?
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RICO
I am glad it's over.
EDWARD
Why don't you join me for a bite?
RICO
Next time. I am just whipped out.
Rico turns, remembering the roach. A grin appeared on his face, ready to rub it in his face that he knew this place had a roach infestation.. but stops. Instead, he says his goodbyes and promises to eat out with him tomorrow.
The elevator ride-up feels as if the entirety was crammed into five minutes. No one gets on as the only benefit Rico acquired from his new position is structured hours. You arrive at 9; you leave at 6 with a one-hour lunch.
Rico's mind drifts as he wonders if this will be the norm of his elevator ride. The base from the song bumping into his earphones is audible if anyone walks in, but no one does. It's a moment of clear transparency.
Then he passes it, floor 8. It was only yesterday when his elevator ride was much shorter. His desk mates were fun to talk to on occasion. He wonders how everyone is doing? If anyone will visit him down there instead of Edward.
A chuckle finds its way out of him. It was only yesterday that he hated his life. Confused about why he was the only one who was being sent out on missions like his. Where he would stare at the screen, reliving the horrors he saw. Then why does melancholy overwhelm him when he passes the 8th floor?
He makes it to the top building and the "fake cable and internet business" that occupies the upper level. It is a complete and operational business that people rely on, but its main objective is to hide Internet 24.
He waves at faces he recognizes but doesn't stop. He heads to his car, wondering what he will pick up at Silver Steves Gas and Go, and preps himself for tomorrow. He changes the song on his phone and lingers on the screen. Should he text them? Would a call be better? Should he mention the job change, how would he explain it to them? He places his phone back in his pocket.
Rico passes the glass front doors as the cool afternoon breeze hits his face and the burning sunlight cooks his skin. He wonders what reports will sit on his desk tomorrow. That thought raises the corners of Rico's mouth for some odd reason.