<?>
I sat at my desk, back hunched, fingers typing away at some bullshit report I'd been tasked with completing that morning. When I applied for my job at the KTMJ, I thought I'd be doing real work, important work. I saw the position as a chance to finally expose Gotham's elite. To uncover all their dodgy dealings. All the bribery and the embezzlement and the fucking five star three course meals paid for by the honest people of Gotham. The type of honest people struggling to feed their children. Struggling to heat their one bedroom apartments falling down in the most dangerous parts of the city. Struggling to keep up with rent payments each month. I thought I'd finally get to show everyone just how deep the corruption in this filthy city runs.
But that wasn't the case.
Instead I sit here, day in day out, in this shitty basement office, producing reports on how Mary who works at the local grocery store down the street didn't fill in her tax form correctly this year.
This was my job.
This was Edward Nashton's life.
I hated my co-workers. They all knew about the corruption just as much as I did, yet they brushed it under the carpet, more concerned with climbing the ladder than doing what was right. They hated me, too. The names started approximately three weeks into joining the firm. 'Edward the eccentric'. 'Ed-weird'. 'Freak'.
I liked that one, very creative.
It hurt, at first. I stopped eating in the cafeteria. Took the stairs instead of the elevator. Kept my head down. My boss eventually moved me to the basement. What I now called home is a cramped, damp office. Office is a generous term, more like a storage closet. It's dark. Paint peeling off the walls. But I don't mind. I like the solitude. And the move meant that I no longer had to endure the stares and the sneers of my stuck-up, white collar colleagues. No one bothered me down here. If my skills were needed, people would just drop me an email. Just the way I preferred it.
That's why my heart dropped when I heard a knock on my door.
"Mornin', Nashton. How we getting on this fine day?" My boss leant against the now open door, arms folded across his chest, face scrunched up in disgust as his eyes glanced over my crummy office.
My boss was a tall man. Not much older than myself. His thick, dark hair was always gelled perfectly into place. He had cheekbones and a jaw sharp enough to cut through paper. Everyday he wore a tie that perfectly matched the one-size-too-small shirt he'd don, like we all couldn't tell already how in shape he was.
"Morning, s-sir. Um... all good here. J-just working on that report you sent me". I shot up from my seat.
He's not the fucking queen, Edward. Sit back down you pussy.
"Aha, amazing. Anyway... that's not why I'm here. Tomorrow. 7pm. Palace Theatre. KTMJ ball-"
"Oh... I don't know abou-"
"I expect you to be there, Nashton. Everyone is expected to be there. This isn't optional. The orders have come from above, I'm afraid". His glare was like a laser.
I don't know why I was so surprised, the KTMJ ball was an annual event. Every year my pompous co-workers would congregate for one night and pretend to be something they were not. Every year they would dress up in fancy gowns and drink overpriced champagne at the expense of the tax payer. Every year they would rub shoulders with the big boys, pitiful really, as if it would help them get a promotion. And every year I'd avoided attending. My first few years at the firm I wasn't invited. Then it became a mandatory thing, probably because people felt sorry for me. Each year proceeding that I found an excuse for my absence. Travelling out of the city to visit "family". Behind on reports. The flu. Last year my ceiling "collapsed" due to "leak" from my upstairs neighbour. The truth was that I was running out of excuses. And the reality was that my boss was starting to suspect it.
Fuck. Shit.
"Um... okay..." I mumbled.
"That's my man! So it's black tie formal. No sweaters or whatever..." He eyed me up and down, not even trying to be subtle about it.
Cunt.
"Okay..."
"And it's bring a plus one, if you'd... like".
I hate you.
"You got it!" I forced a smile onto my face
"Amazing! Glad we're on the same page. I'll see you tomorrow night then!"
We're not even reading the same book.
"See you then".
The man couldn't run away any faster if he tried.
God I wish I could too.
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
What Once Was
Lãng mạnYou move to Gotham for school and quickly take up a job in a local bar. Having stumbled into your work one evening, Gotham local, and forensic accountant, Edward Nashton becomes infatuated with you. The two of you eventually become close, but nothin...
