Kurt looked up as the tall man closed the door behind him. Of all the operators, The Accountant was known as the most professional, in both a positive and negative sense. So professional he never failed at the job or brought his feelings into the equation. Also so professional he was practically a robot for all intents and purposes.
While many of the others doubted The Accountant even had feelings, Kurt had known him long enough to spot the very minute differences that sometimes slipped through the cracks in his mask. Despite his nickname, The Accountant hated paperwork. He also disliked the very nickname he had been given, but was way too serious to ever utter that to anyone. But people being friendly to him ticked him off even worse.
Which was exactly why Kurt never failed to do so. He enjoyed his little game of poking at the mask, hoping that a piece would fall off sooner than later.
“Another job well done, Steve?” he fired off his opening jab, failing to elicit a reaction from the Accountant. Or even any response at all, short of completely neutral gaze. The Accountant never spoke unless absolutely necessary, and even then you’d be hard-pressed to get more than a single sentence out of him. Rhetoric was as effective on him as paper planes were at stopping trucks.
Kurt waited for a few moments longer, allowing the uncomfortable silence to really settle in and get cozy. After months of observation, Kurt knew that The Accountant also despised wasted time.
After about fifteen seconds, the situation had already deteriorated from ‘uncomfortable silence’ into ‘weaponized silence’. Kurt gave it another ten seconds. The higher ups had already chewed him out; this was his petty revenge against The Accountant.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Sorry to break it to you, pal, but this time you messed up,” he finally continued, keenly observing the responding reaction. The Accountant took it well. And well in his book was basically no reaction at all. Did he consider this a failed attempt at a joke, maybe?
Since words failed to elicit a reaction, maybe actions would. Kurt turned one of his monitors towards The Accountant. It displayed in full screen a very grainy video of a man moving away from the camera with his arm clutching his side. The entire sequence was less than ten seconds long, and then it repeated again.
The Accountant had raised his left eyebrow ever so slightly, but that was the extent of his reactions. Kurt stopped dancing around and threw a straight punch.
“This is from a camera overlooking the garden behind the villa,” Kurt explained. “In other words: This is a survivor, a potential witness.”
For perhaps the fourth time since Kurt had known him, The Accountant’s mask slipped a little. He looked ever so slightly puzzled. And then his mask resumed.
“Now, there is not a single man in the world that has a completely spotless record. Just a minor slip-up, right? But don’t worry, I’ve got your back, Steve. You’ll get a chance to fix your mistake.”
What Kurt really wanted to do was to taunt The Accountant, but that never worked. Better to play friendly: It had a much better chance of triggering him.
For all his observations of what ticked the Accountant off, Kurt had yet to discover anything the Accountant actually seemed to enjoy. Now, for the first time ever, Kurt noticed an ever so slight grin on The Accountant’s face.
“Yes,” he replied. That was how bad Kurt had riled him up. He normally never acknowledged orders, at best giving a brief nod.
For some reason, Kurt felt a drop of cold sweat running down his back.