WITCH. five hargreeves [1]

thirty one. deadly little thing

EDITED AUGUST 20, 2021

Eight was pretty sure that if it wasn't the apocalypse that would kill her, it was the boredom she felt during the past hour. Her hands steadily typed words on the typewriter, and all she wanted to do was get out of The Commission as soon as possible.

"Hiya, Five, Eight." They heard Dot say from behind them. Eight and Five spared her no glance, continuing to finish her report that The Handler needed. She had found out whose death may trigger the apocalypse, and she was about to finish, but she needed to check the details a few more times.

"How's it going?" The woman added.

"I must have utter silence in order to complete this task." Five replied in a cold tone, typing his report.

"Oh, okay."

"Hey, a few of us are having lunch, and I was wondering if you you're doing something—"

Eight finished her report, taking it out of the typewriter. "Utter silence, Dot." she looked behind her and smiled sweetly. Dot gulped, deciding to not say anything since Eight could literally throw her out of the building at any moment, and getting on her bad side was a big no.

Eight rolled her report up and put it in a tube. As she stood up, Five also did and they decided to put in their reports together. "Oh. Bye—bye!" Dot called out as Five and Eight made their way towards the room.

"So what exactly is the plan here?" Eight whispered into his ear. "Go with me to a stall later, I'll explain it to you." he mumbled, before the two of them went in the room. The pair was about to put the tubes in before The Handler came strutting in, taking the tubes from the pair.

"I'm afraid that's not procedure." she mumbled, looking at them. "Five, Eight, meet Gloria. Gloria is perhaps the single most vital cog in our machine."

"Oh!" Gloria chuckled, waving a hand in embarrassment. She seemed like a nice old lady.

"Gloria, this is Number Five and Number Eight." The Handler introduced the two of them, beaming.

"Look at you." The woman said, her voice shaking from old age. "Deadly little thing.
So happy we decided to close the contract on your life." she smiled, taking Eight's tube, and then Five's from the handler.

"I'm afraid your reputation precedes you. And it looks like you're building on it here." The Handler smiled, opening Eight's report up.

The woman read it, asking Eight a few questions, before giving her a big smile and putting the tube in. "I'm impressed, Number Eight." she grinned. "No one in the commission has solved this case but you."

"Looks like no one in the Commission is as smart as me." Eight shrugged.

"Karl Weber." The Handler took Five's report. "Now tell me, why unfortunate Karl?" she questioned, rolling the paperback to where it was.

"Karl Weber is the butcher at the shop where Captain Ernst A. Lehmann acquires his weekly roast. So, if Karl dies, his butcher shop is passed on to his son Otto, who never washes his hands, which is disgusting." Five cringed.

"So he's the one who gives the captain his roast." The Handler guessed.

"And that gives him food poisoning."

"Which makes him late for work."

"Which delays the takeoff."

"And to make up for a lost time, the Hindenburg flies through a weather front of high electrical charge and humidity."

"And the static electricity inside the aircraft makes it a virtual tinderbox." The Handler smiled.

"Tiny engine sparks."