So looking out over the smashed-in conference room door, which was now largely in pieces and strewn across the conference room table, I could clearly see him: Christian
, the only guy I ever fired. He was moving towards the conference room with an anxious-yet-curious look on his face. Could he see me?
Perhaps at this juncture a little background is in order. I fired Christian because he did nothing, ever. I've never seen anything like it. I gave him one major project, and he had a few minor projects from the other folks on my team, but he never did anything. Initially, when my own colleagues asked me what Christian did, I'd respond with his job description: Oh, Christian is responsible for delivering projects that have a tech component
. But after a while, when it was clear he was never doing that or anything else, I'd simply answer: I don't know
. And when his colleagues (ie, the other people on my team) began asking me what Christian did, and when I'd have to reply I don't know,
well that's when I knew I had to get rid of him. And around that time, he even stopped answering email. I didn't mind having a guy who didn't do a lot, but I really didn't have the slots to afford having someone who did literally nothing
. And Christian did nothing. So I had to fire him so that's what I did. And with HR I escorted him from the building. So what was he doing here?
He stopped at the door to the conference room and looked at the splattered blood and chunks of wheely. His eyes narrowed. He was clearly figuring things out, but at no time did his eyes fix on me. I'm pretty certain he couldn't see me, high as I was on the DMT STIX. I even tentatively waved my arm, but his eyes didn't even flicker: He wasn't even pretending not to see me.
After a minute of appraisal, he looked up from the grizzly scene and around the conference room, and into the empty air. I think he was looking to see if he could catch of glimpse of whomever was responsible for destroying wheely. But he couldn't. I saw him turn quickly on his heel and stalk away through the cubes. It occurred to me to follow him, so that's what I did.
He made his way over to the freight elevator so I got in with him and saw him push the button for the 50th floor. The 50th floor, being the top floor, is special in that there are no cubes or offices there, only conference rooms. I saw Christian turn a corner and open a door to "CONFERENCE ROOM E" which I don't remember having been in before.
Slipping in behind him I was dumbfounded: This wasn't a conference room at all, but very obviously an apartment. His
apartment. There was a couch, a giant screen TV and even a little kitchenette. I could even see a large bathroom to the side. Based on my knowledge of the layout of the 50th floor, I figured that Christian's bathroom was carved out of the larger men's bathroom space for that floor., which explained why that bathroom was much smaller than on other floors. And of course, he had a great view, looking out over Manhattan and the bridges (ie, the Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and Manhattan Bridges). In the corner was a computer, surrounded by a bunch of smaller screens, all showing what was clearly the video feed from security cameras.
Looking at those security screens I noticed something: There was one screen that didn't cycle through different images, but instead was fixed on a single image, a cubicle. And that cubicle looked...Goddamit
. It was my
cube. Christian had a security cam fixed on me and my cube and he'd been keeping tabs on me since I supposedly walked him out of the building. All the times I was just surfing the internet or picking my nose or scratching my own ass, and this lazy son-of-a-bitch was just watching me? He probably knew when I entered or left the building.
As I stood there Christian came over and stood looking at the security feed screens also. For a moment we overlapped, but I was already used to it so I kept just thinking about the implications. Had he been using this setup to fuck me over somehow? Maybe that explained my crummy rating last year, even though we practically solved the banking equivalent of world hunger. As I stood there I got angrier and angrier, while Christian's motions grew almost frantic. Bending over at the computer I saw him pull up a security cam console, and then I saw him start searching the cams for video from the 49th floor. He was clearly trying to find out who killed wheely, and how.
And then, inevitably, he found an image of someone running around a corner: Of course, this was me, but the image was blurry and distant.
I panicked. Well, it wasn't exactly panic but I definitely didn't want Christian to know, if he didn't already, that it was me who killed wheely. So, still flying quite high on the DMT STIX (in my mind I reasoned that it had only been about 10 minutes since I ate them and then had wheely torn to shreds), I summoned my own creature who simply pounded through Christian's door, right at that instant. Unlike wheely, my creature smashed through Christian's door as if it were made of balsa wood.
Christian's head snapped away from the screens as my vast and terrifying creature came at him, or so it appeared. Christian slinked towards the wall, which was fine, as whirly bypassed him and went straight to those video feeds and, whirling up to supersonic speeds, smashed all the screens and the computer as well into tiny fragments, almost a powder. As Christian darted for the door, whirly ran straight at him, and in a blur wrapped its octopus-like tentacles around him and then squoze him close, like a businessman holding a briefcase under his arm in the rain. I heard Christian cry out in terror: Whaaa! Ahhhh! as I had my creature take him to the freight elevator.
Somehow, I knew that the creature would fling Christian out the back of the building into a garbage dumpster, which should be a clear enough message that he was never to return. And since he was on the other side of security (this time, really outside the building as opposed to just some illusion he generated), I figure he probably couldn't get back in again. Well, not unless he found another source of DMT STIX and chose to brave the anger of Whirly. Furthermore, Christian knew his apartment was ruined and, as far as I could tell, had no idea of who was responsible.
And now, of course, there are actions to take and decisions to be made. In terms of cleaning up that Godawful mess, I don't know what Christian would have done, because certainly wheely has stomped plenty of Christian's enemies to death, and yet we never detected even the slightest hint. Perhaps Christian and wheely had the facilities people so terrified that they automatically covered up anything untoward that might have happened. Come to think of it, in the banking world people dissappear without warning all the time, and only sometimes is there some kind of announcement explaining why. In general, people are never seen again. Who knows? Maybe many of them died and their bodies smuggled out in pizza boxes, having been stomped flat by wheely. This reasoning led me to believe that, come the next business day, there'd be little to no sign of something inexplicable having occurred.
Of course, this still left open questions: Where did the DMT STIX come from? And was the one package in the vending machine on my floor an accident, or was it planted by unknown agencies? (Perhaps Christian wore out his welcome yet again?) Who knows. I for one, however, didn't plan on living up on 50, but then again having a nice chill out room could be fun. Maybe I could have a hot tub brought in or something, and possibly coax some of the chics from marketing into my lair? Who knows. I have no definite plans at this point, however, but will lay low for a while to see if anything or anybody comes crawling out of the wood work to try to find out who's the DMT STIX "boss" now.