Knowledge is Power is Time is Money: 'Storm and Silence' One Shots

Naptime for Mr Linton

'Oof!'

I exhaled deeply, sinking into the hard wooden chair behind my desk. My legs burned, and my chest heaved as I desperately attempted to regain my breath.

Plink

'No! No more!' I wheezed, clutching my side as I leaned over to snatch the cylindrical metal tube that had landed on my desk. I popped off the top with my thumb and shook out the delicate roll of paper. Resting my chin on the surface of the desk, I stretched my arms out in front of me and read the small note resting between my fingers.

Mr Linton,
bring me file 23XII7b. Be quicker this time, you're slowing down.
Rikkard Ambrose

I sighed heavily into the wood beneath my chin. Then, straightening, I leaned back in my chair towards the wall separating my dear employer and I, my muscles screaming in protest.

'I.. I can't... whew! Hold on a moment, I need to catch my breath,' I inhaled deeply, holding tightly to the arms of the chair for support.
'Alright, as I was saying, I can't do it!' I yelled at the wall.

Mr Ambrose had been particularly demanding that day. He hadn't allowed me more than five milliseconds of rest between each of his unmerciful demands for files. Just thinking about all of the running I had done caused another bead of sweat to drip down my forehead. I hastily wiped it away and glared at the wall.

'You must allow me to take a break, sir,' I tacked on quickly.
'I've ran the distance of London twice over by now!' I paused for a moment to take another pained breath.

Plink

'Oh, for heaven's sake!' I snatched the tube and threw it across the room.
'If you're going my make me exercise so much, the least you can do is exercise your vocal chords,' I muttered, shaking my fist and directing a rather unladylike gesture at the door separating our offices.

Plink

'BLOODY HELL!' With all of my remaining strength, I whipped the tube at the door. It reverberated off the polished wood with a sound like gunfire and bounced off the floor, sending the cap flying off the capsule where it struck me point-blank between the eyes. The force of collision sent me tipping over the back of my chair, and I crashed onto the floor. For a moment, I just laid there. I was too damn tired to do anything else at the moment, and the floor was in fact surprisingly comfortable. Hmm, perhaps one of these days I could bring a blanket with me and have a pleasant catnap between duties.

I was taken out of my drowsy thoughts when the door handle clicked behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see Mr Ambrose staring at my figure, sprawled pathetically on the floor, pinned down by the fallen chair.

'I thought I told you to be quicker Mr Linton,' he stated, completely ignoring my state of obvious distress.
'And do not exaggerate. You have ran approximately 22.495 kilometres today, which is only half the distance across London.'

If it was possible, I would have collapsed even further into the floorboards out of sheer exasperation. There had to be something wrong in that statuesque head of his, surely!

'I don't even want to know why you've been calculating my steps,' I muttered quietly to myself. I guessed that he had heard my sassy remark, for in an instant he stepped over me and bent down low so that our eyes met. With an excruciatingly slow pace, he leaned forward so that his head came to rest beside mine.