Unpromised Home

the precursor to mayhem

'in which the work never stops'

You let out a long sigh, leaning into the back of your chair. You glare down at the spread of papers on your desk. You've been struggling through these papers for what feels like hours, and you've hardly made a dent in the small stack that America had handed you.

A yawn escapes your lips. You stare groggily at the door to your office. You sigh again, dropping your head onto the hard desk. Its not even noon yet and you already need a nap. Maybe you should... Whats America going to do? Fire you? You laugh dryly at the thought.

You have no idea what he would do. The man had somehow become even more confusing in the week that had passed since he fell asleep at your appartment.

That whole day still baffled you beyond belief. He really just showed up, dragged you around DC, dumped some trauma on you and then fell asleep. As one does, you suppose. And on top of that confusing mess, America's been refusing to elaborate on anything. He was gone by the time you woke up the next morning, and he'd been skating around talking to you in any extent, which has been making your job unnecessarily difficult. Really, how does he expect you to get any work done if he doesn't tell you what you're supposed to be doing?

You groan loudly, pushing yourself backwards in your chair. The wheels roll a short distance, coming to an abrupt stop. You kick your feet up, resting them on the desk surface, not caring if your shoes dirty the paperwork America had given you.

This was ridiculous. What was that man thinking. You lean back in the chair, placing your hands over your eyes before dragging them drammatically down your face. You don't even know what half of these papers are for. They're all just vaugely worded messes of budgets and collaborations with other buisnesses and none of them make sense! You were so damn confused...

You let out a sigh and stand from your chair. Maybe a break will help you think better... You begin to walk over to the office door, but you stop short of it as the door slams open.

"[Name]! C'mon we have a meeting."

"We do? Since when?"

"Since right now!" Layla grabs your arm, dragging you out of your office. "I've already gone to collect everyone else, we just have to head to the meeting hall in the basement..."

"This building has a basement?" You raise an eyebrow as you follow Layla down the flight of stairs. You had never noticed a door with basement access before, but then again you've never really been exploring in this office, unless you consider the one time you were looking for a bathroom while scared for your life.

"Yes... Don't ask why the meeting has to be held there... It's what America insists on when it comes to meetings like this."

"What's that supposed to mean...?"

"Right... You're..." Layla sighs, pushing the door at the bottom of the stairs open. "Do you remember when we first met? I mentioned that this company is more or less a front for America's personal and political affairs, correct? I believe I also mentioned that there were only a handful of us that knew of this fact, this handful now including you..." Layla falls into silence for a moment as she leads you to the end of a hall. She rests her hand on a door. "This meeting, happens to involve those 'personal and political affairs'" Layla pulls a set of keys out of her pocket. She unlocks the door, pulling it open to reveal a narrow staircase, barely illuminated by a lightbulb that looked like it was going to go out any moment.

You stall at the top of the staircase for a moment. This wasn't ominous at all. Definitely didn't look like you were going to get kidnapped a second time.

"Make sure to lock the door." Layla calls up to you as she walks down the stairs. You let out a soft sigh.

As you step down into the dim stairwell, you shut the door behind you. You turn the doors deadbolt, and follow Layla down into the basement of the office. One of the lights above your head flickers. This was not creepy whatsoever.