Around the Table
A Day Job
This story is the sequel to "Night Shift."
It was daylight outside. What I felt now was terrible, just pure terrible. When I reached over to my left for a glass of juice (which someone kindly left on the table there), I noticed that bandages were covering every centimeter of my hand. I realized that my leg had been suspended (and also bandaged) and that I was wearing a typical thin blue shirt -- the one that doctors' patients usually wear. I only had a few spare moments to think about this before my train of thought was interrupted.
"Mr. White." A nurse had appeared by the door. "Good timing. You have a visitor."
White. Jack White. That was my name.
A thin man wearing a trench coat exchanged places with the nurse. His brown hair was quite a mess, and his tie was loose. No one would've thought that this man was important; he was just too disorganized. Many people don't know him, but I do. I know this man as my employer.
"Jack!" he exclaimed, his hands out with a beaming expression. "Glad to see you're doing well!"
Well? I coughed, "Excuse me, Boss, but in my country, when you see someone in my condition, they are not 'well.' "
A briefcase slammed on the table and spilled the glass of juice. He turned it away from me and opened it.
"Lad, that's about to change," he rasped, as he took up a filled syringe from the briefcase.
I didn't know what was in the syringe, and I wasn't sure if he was even allowed to do it, but the injection was finished before I even felt it. I saw him place the empty syringe back in the briefcase, which glowed orange from within upon closing it. What the boss did was unbeknownst by anyone. He never really did share his secrets.
"You are better," he intoned.
Strange. The pins and needles previously allocated on my embodiment had disappeared, and I did feel better. Although the statement wasn't a question, I still replied, "Yeah. I am." I sat up and tried to start undoing the bandages, but before I could even touch them, the boss' hand clenched my wrist.
His brown eyes glared at me as he growled lowly, "I would advise you not to remove your bandages."
I could never tell what he was thinking, or what he did. I wanted to ask why, but I decided it best not to, simply nodding and putting my hands back down when he let them go. I was about to lay down and relax a while longer until the boss stated plainly, "I have a job for you."
I paused. "Sure. I'm up for it," was my eventual reply.
"I want you to take back the plate. It would seem that the Butler has kept it with him in the basement of the mansion right across the street."
Another pause. I wanted to ask him how he knew such things. Of course, that's not the only thing I wanted to ask. I wanted to ask him why I was the only one guarding the sacred plate. I wanted to ask him why the sacred plate was so important. I wanted to ask him so many things, but I just nodded.
My boss looked at me. It was as if he could feel the reluctance in my soul. At the moment where I thought he would say something to generally raise my spirits, he said, "You have to go alone."
Just what was I to him? Some sort of 'Chosen One' from the movies? I can't possibly take on the Butler, especially with that thin, supernatural figure as his sidekick!
He suddenly picked up his briefcase and abruptly left the room. He didn't even lend me any artillery, or any help for that matter. My eyes drifted to the window, and I gazed at the mansion across the street. It wasn't very well guarded. There was no gate or fence, no guard dogs, no security men at all. The lawn was plainly empty. That wasn't exactly good; that gave me less places to hide if I ever get seen.
I looked back over at the table to my left. There was something there that I hadn't noticed before: a piece of paper. I picked it up with a bandaged hand and looked at it. "Leave through the window," were the letters inscribed. Sure enough, when I looked back to the window, it was open. Odd how I hadn't noticed it open earlier. I got up from the bed and started for the window.
The last words before I jumped were "Sir, you shouldn't be up!" I knew that the boss wasn't authorized to give that shot. Yet, I still felt fine. My two feet hit the pavement, and I rolled across it onto the street. I could hear screams coming from the hospital, so I leapt to my feet and made a mad dash for the mansion. My boss had given me a job, and I don't exactly want cops screwing it up for me. Money was hard to come by these days, and I'm pretty sure I left the water running back at home.
I kept running. At the mansion's yard, I took one look at both the door and the window. I decided that with the momentum and speed I was going, the window was my best option. The glass looked thin, whereas the door may have been bolted shut. Both feet flew off of the pavement and I struck the window.
The window was harder than it looked, but it still broke. I expected myself to fly right through it, but my momentum just stopped. I guess you could say it was transferred to the glass, but it didn't exactly go anywhere. I kicked down the broken window and stepped inside.
An alarm began to ring. I instinctively hid under the table, but it was only moments when I realized that the alarm didn't come from the mansion; it came from the hospital. It probably would've been better just to wait for the nurse to turn her back before actually taking a leap from the second story. I took a deep breathe and relaxed. I peeked over the table to take a good look at what I was dealing with.
Emptiness. I was dealing with emptiness. The black tiled floors held up nothing but a couple of chairs and this table. There didn't appear to be any stairs, either, in spite of the fact that the mansion seemed to be three stories from the outside and that the plate was supposed to be in the basement. I stood up and stared blankly at all of this emptiness. Maybe the boss was wrong. Maybe this is the wrong mansion, and the mansion I was supposed to be at was the one across the other street-
Suddenly the tiles below my feet shattered. I fell, but the ground I fell upon was almost immediately below. I blinked, and before I had the time to scramble to my feet, the Butler appeared before me with a shotgun by my face.
"I thought you would have given up on this business, Mr. White," he mused. "Having the building you worked in explode isn't enough for you? I should have known."
"W-we can talk about this, Butler! Just give me the plate!"
"You would think now would be a time to negotiate?" the Butler asked. "And don't you think you're on the wrong end of the seesaw to make up ultimati?"
I quickly shoved the shotgun out of my view and rolled over to the wall. I could hear the blast of the weapon, but he apparently missed. I scrambled to my feet, but suddenly I was held up by the collar. I looked down and saw the white mask that sent my workplace to the blazes. Just what was this person?
"I believe you two have met," the Butler said as he dusted himself off. "What do you think, Mr. White? I've surely improved the program, haven't I?"
I struggled to reply, "Program? What program?"
"Your boss, he works on medicines and the like to improve human ability," he stated. "He and I are no different, except for the fact that instead of drugs, I use chips." He held up a minute, square material. "Chips," he repeated.
I looked back at my assailant. The chip was absent.
"So, what, you're making cyborgs?"
The Butler scoffed. "Far from it, Mr. White. It's something completely better."
I was flung across the room into the opposite wall. The basement was surprisingly empty, but also surprisingly wide. The strength that this "creation" of the Butler's were simply an impossibility. I hopped up to my feet and quickly surveyed the area. Sure enough, the plate was protected in a similar fashion as the museum I worked at. It was flat on a pedestal protected by glass.
And I thought I had broken enough glass today.
I ducked as the slender figure smashed its fist into the wall, but I was too slow to avoid the kick that launched me to the other corner of the room. I could hear the Butler chuckling, but I couldn't exactly hear what he was saying. Despite the pain in my side, I decided to make a run for the plate.
Instead of running, I flew.
The figure had already arrived at my position, and a hook into my back sent me through the air towards the plate.
I think I heard something break, but what was louder was the shattering of glass that protected the plate. I looked up to see the Butler's face twist in ire, and I realized what the matter was when I look at the plate.
The sacred plate had shattered to pieces.
The room flashed a deep red, and red was all I saw.
"Mr. White." A nurse had appeared by the door. "Good timing. You have a visitor."
White. Jack White. That was my name.
A thin man wearing a trench coat exchanged places with the nurse. His brown hair was quite a mess, and his tie was loose. No one would've thought that this man was important; he was just too disorganized. Many people don't know him, but I do. I know this man as my employer.
"Jack!" he exclaimed, his hands out with a beaming expression. "Glad to see you're doing well!"
Well? I coughed, "Excuse me, Boss, but in my country, when you see someone in my condition, they are not 'well.' "
A briefcase slammed on the table and spilled the glass of juice. He turned it away from me and opened it.
"Lad, that's about to change," he rasped, as he took up a filled syringe from the briefcase.
I didn't know what was in the syringe, and I wasn't sure if he was even allowed to do it, but the injection was finished before I even felt it. I saw him place the empty syringe back in the briefcase, which glowed orange from within upon closing it. What the boss did was unbeknownst by anyone. He never really did share his secrets.
"You are better," he intoned.
Strange. The pins and needles previously allocated on my embodiment had disappeared, and I did feel better. Although the statement wasn't a question, I still replied, "Yeah. I am." I sat up and tried to start undoing the bandages, but before I could even touch them, the boss' hand clenched my wrist.
His brown eyes glared at me as he growled lowly, "I would advise you not to remove your bandages."
I could never tell what he was thinking, or what he did. I wanted to ask why, but I decided it best not to, simply nodding and putting my hands back down when he let them go. I was about to lay down and relax a while longer until the boss stated plainly, "I have a job for you."
I paused. "Sure. I'm up for it," was my eventual reply.
"I want you to take back the plate. It would seem that the Butler has kept it with him in the basement of the mansion right across the street."
Another pause. I wanted to ask him how he knew such things. Of course, that's not the only thing I wanted to ask. I wanted to ask him why I was the only one guarding the sacred plate. I wanted to ask him why the sacred plate was so important. I wanted to ask him so many things, but I just nodded.
My boss looked at me. It was as if he could feel the reluctance in my soul. At the moment where I thought he would say something to generally raise my spirits, he said, "You have to go alone."
Just what was I to him? Some sort of 'Chosen One' from the movies? I can't possibly take on the Butler, especially with that thin, supernatural figure as his sidekick!
He suddenly picked up his briefcase and abruptly left the room. He didn't even lend me any artillery, or any help for that matter. My eyes drifted to the window, and I gazed at the mansion across the street. It wasn't very well guarded. There was no gate or fence, no guard dogs, no security men at all. The lawn was plainly empty. That wasn't exactly good; that gave me less places to hide if I ever get seen.
I looked back over at the table to my left. There was something there that I hadn't noticed before: a piece of paper. I picked it up with a bandaged hand and looked at it. "Leave through the window," were the letters inscribed. Sure enough, when I looked back to the window, it was open. Odd how I hadn't noticed it open earlier. I got up from the bed and started for the window.
The last words before I jumped were "Sir, you shouldn't be up!" I knew that the boss wasn't authorized to give that shot. Yet, I still felt fine. My two feet hit the pavement, and I rolled across it onto the street. I could hear screams coming from the hospital, so I leapt to my feet and made a mad dash for the mansion. My boss had given me a job, and I don't exactly want cops screwing it up for me. Money was hard to come by these days, and I'm pretty sure I left the water running back at home.
I kept running. At the mansion's yard, I took one look at both the door and the window. I decided that with the momentum and speed I was going, the window was my best option. The glass looked thin, whereas the door may have been bolted shut. Both feet flew off of the pavement and I struck the window.
The window was harder than it looked, but it still broke. I expected myself to fly right through it, but my momentum just stopped. I guess you could say it was transferred to the glass, but it didn't exactly go anywhere. I kicked down the broken window and stepped inside.
An alarm began to ring. I instinctively hid under the table, but it was only moments when I realized that the alarm didn't come from the mansion; it came from the hospital. It probably would've been better just to wait for the nurse to turn her back before actually taking a leap from the second story. I took a deep breathe and relaxed. I peeked over the table to take a good look at what I was dealing with.
Emptiness. I was dealing with emptiness. The black tiled floors held up nothing but a couple of chairs and this table. There didn't appear to be any stairs, either, in spite of the fact that the mansion seemed to be three stories from the outside and that the plate was supposed to be in the basement. I stood up and stared blankly at all of this emptiness. Maybe the boss was wrong. Maybe this is the wrong mansion, and the mansion I was supposed to be at was the one across the other street-
Suddenly the tiles below my feet shattered. I fell, but the ground I fell upon was almost immediately below. I blinked, and before I had the time to scramble to my feet, the Butler appeared before me with a shotgun by my face.
"I thought you would have given up on this business, Mr. White," he mused. "Having the building you worked in explode isn't enough for you? I should have known."
"W-we can talk about this, Butler! Just give me the plate!"
"You would think now would be a time to negotiate?" the Butler asked. "And don't you think you're on the wrong end of the seesaw to make up ultimati?"
I quickly shoved the shotgun out of my view and rolled over to the wall. I could hear the blast of the weapon, but he apparently missed. I scrambled to my feet, but suddenly I was held up by the collar. I looked down and saw the white mask that sent my workplace to the blazes. Just what was this person?
"I believe you two have met," the Butler said as he dusted himself off. "What do you think, Mr. White? I've surely improved the program, haven't I?"
I struggled to reply, "Program? What program?"
"Your boss, he works on medicines and the like to improve human ability," he stated. "He and I are no different, except for the fact that instead of drugs, I use chips." He held up a minute, square material. "Chips," he repeated.
I looked back at my assailant. The chip was absent.
"So, what, you're making cyborgs?"
The Butler scoffed. "Far from it, Mr. White. It's something completely better."
I was flung across the room into the opposite wall. The basement was surprisingly empty, but also surprisingly wide. The strength that this "creation" of the Butler's were simply an impossibility. I hopped up to my feet and quickly surveyed the area. Sure enough, the plate was protected in a similar fashion as the museum I worked at. It was flat on a pedestal protected by glass.
And I thought I had broken enough glass today.
I ducked as the slender figure smashed its fist into the wall, but I was too slow to avoid the kick that launched me to the other corner of the room. I could hear the Butler chuckling, but I couldn't exactly hear what he was saying. Despite the pain in my side, I decided to make a run for the plate.
Instead of running, I flew.
The figure had already arrived at my position, and a hook into my back sent me through the air towards the plate.
I think I heard something break, but what was louder was the shattering of glass that protected the plate. I looked up to see the Butler's face twist in ire, and I realized what the matter was when I look at the plate.
The sacred plate had shattered to pieces.
The room flashed a deep red, and red was all I saw.
Completion date: 7-21-12