Harry's long, slender legs carry his lean torso and muddled mind towards the last place he wants to be after witnessing that unimaginable event. What would he say when he gets there? Sorry I was late sir, there was a giant metal spider contraption terrorizing the city and I just happened to be there! No way Reeves would believe that. He needs a better excuse, something that could actually, potentially be possible. Has anything like this ever happened before? Maybe I should've used my phone this time...no one's gonna believe this.
His hand goes up to his curls, tugging at them in hope of relieving stress but only making him wince. The watch on his left wrist reads 3:30; he's just thirty minutes late. He shakes his head, checking the time only makes him more stressed and anxious.
"Move it." Some mutters, their shoulder hitting Harry's forearm. The sidewalks are bustling with New Yorkers trying to go about their normal lives, as if the events that occurred only an hour ago didn't actually take place. Harry nods apologetically and forces a sorry out, chewing on his lip as he maneuvers through the crowd of people standing on the corner of an intersection. He pushes his way through a group of preteen girls huddled around one of their phones; a video of the metal monster shooting red beams towards the earth playing on the screen.
I should have pulled my phone out. How can I be so dumb? As Harry continues to beat himself up over his potentially job ending mistake, he nears the skyscraper. He stops just before the revolving door, adjusting the dangling bag on his shoulder. His right-hand wraps around the strap, using it for comfort the same way a baby holds its blanket. He closes his eyes and inhales; whatever happens, happens. He opens his eyes and reluctantly steps forward, his left hand pushing on the glass window of the revolving door sending it into its well traveled path.
The inside of the building is busier than usual; people scurry past Harry talking through their Bluetooth devices and poking on their phones. The pebble-colored marble floor is a perfect reflection of the thoughts floating in Harry's head—random and everywhere. He takes his badge out of the inside pocket of his jacket and scans it across the security access pad and pushes through the metal gate; making his way towards the escalators and the first floor. The ride on the escalator is far too long for his liking, and the elevator ride to the fifty-sixth floor is an eternity.
The ding of the elevator welcomes him to doom; his left hand at his side is shaking while his right hand is still gripping the strap of his bag on his shoulder. Now or never Harry. He takes a deep breath as he reads the doors of the office; 'The New York Gazette'. This is all he's ever wanted to do and if Reeve's decides to fire him because he's been late once in how the how many months he's been here then so be it. There's always another newspaper like the Times or Herald or blogs. Or blogs.
He grabs the handle of the door and pushes it open only to find a jungle has taken over the office. As he steps inside his eyes travel around the sad beige walls covered in sticky notes of various neon colors and cork boards decorated with crinkled papers pinned up with primary color tacks. Every physical body in the office is on the phone whether that be talking or typing or scrolling; there's pencils behind their ears and their ties have come off. Women have their shoes off and hair pulled back in various hairstyles, some yelling from one cubicle to another.
"Watch out Styles!" A cool gust of air hits Harry's face causing him to stop in his tracks at the first island of cubicles. He looks to his left as he brushes the hair that fell into his face to the side; just a paper ball. Harry puts his hand up in the air to let the guy know it's alright but the guy has already disappeared into his cubicle and is talking loudly in his New Jersey accent.
"Hey Harry, Mr. Reeves wants to see you now." A young, enthusiastic voice states. The voice belongs to Veronica, a black almost blue haired girl with brown skin. Her blush is placed with precision; showing off her high cheekbones, her long eyelashes hover over her excited eyes; she's one of the interns this semester and she's promising. Although she's a few years younger than Harry, they find themselves gravitating towards each other during work hours, usually discussing a new book or band performing somewhere in the city.
Harry nods to her and continues to totter towards Reeve's office. It's all the way to the back of the room, through a frosted glass door with his name on it. It's on the main path through the office from the front doors because as Reeves would say, 'As the head of the newspaper, and you all as the heart, we must always be talking.' Or something like that.
He approaches the door and knocks on it, waiting for the other man to signal him in. He knocks again, it is loud. The door flies open, and Reeves appears, the usual jacket adorning his upper half nowhere to be seen but his brown suspenders are on full display. There's a cigar in his mouth and his nearly bald head somehow looks...messy. His blue eyes are beady and frantic behind his thin round glasses, "Styles get in here! Now!"
Harry steps in and the door slams shut, causing the voices in the office to quiet momentarily before resuming.
"I—"
"I don't wanna hear it.
Reeves walks behind his desk, motioning Harry to sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk. Harry's feet clunk forward but he makes no movement to sit.
"But Sir I'm sorry I didn't mean to arrive so late. It's just something came up my Uber got stuck in traffic." He could feel the heat creeping on his cheeks towards his forehead. I can't believe I'm lying to the boss's face.
"Styles I said I don't wanna hear it. We've got something happening right now, something bigger, more important, more exciting! Wait taxi? Styles you don't take an Uber you wrote a piece saying you thought they were killing New York culture." His eyebrows close the gap between them, the brown mustache sprinkled with gray hair slanting up the corner of his mouth.
"Well...I...I..."
Reeves raises his eyebrow.
"Okay I was actually at a café when this really weird thing happened. You're not gonna believe it but I promise it happened." Harry rubs his temple as he explains everything, pleading with his boss to believe him. He looks at Reeves who only looks back, his face unreadable. "Ok so there was this uh, big metal ball spider thing and it was shooting lasers and this girl, well girls and guys came and stopped it from destroying the city and I know this sounds completely fake but I swear!" His hands are making a sphere shape, trying to give Reeves a better understanding of what he had witnessed.
"My god." Reeves' left hand goes over his mouth, his index finger and thumb on either side of his mustache stroking it.
"Wait no wait! I have my notes." Harry scrambles to find his journal, patting his jacket pockets and rummaging through his bag.
"Harry, have you seen the videos?"
"Videos?" He recalls those girls on the street corner, but he didn't think anything of it besides him being the dumbest person in NYC and not recording whatever just occurred.
"Everything you just described, there's videos. We're trying to figure out what's going on so we can piece together a story for the front page tomorrow. You're telling me you were there? You saw the people who stopped that thing?"
The younger man nodded, his hands still searching his bag for his scribbled personal account. He feels around for the leather cover, finally finding it. He pulls it out and opens it to the freshly penned encounter.
He reads his notes off to Reeves, going further into detail in some parts to give him a better picture of what happened—what he felt in the moment. Reeves listened with widened eyes, taking in every detail the young journalist had experienced. When he finally finishes, Reeves has the biggest grin on the face; the cigar sticking out of his mouth.
"Styles, your stories have been subpar the past few weeks. They're dull and overdone, we need something exciting and fresh, something new. Something no one's ever done before, no one's ever read before." Harry nods, gulping as ideas race through his mind. Dogs wearing sweaters. Denim on denim. Electric cars. Non-GMO foods.
"Those superheroes we have flying around here. They've gotta have a story; no one knows anything about them. I want you to get in there, find out where they're from, what their stories are."
"Sir, I'm not really-"
"Listen. This could be your big break, Styles. The editor position for the features of the newspaper is open, and I know it's what you've been working towards. You get me a story worth reading, the position is yours. What do you say?"
"Okay." He gulps.
Reeves and Harry finally emerge from the office when Reeves calls a staff meeting; everyone running around through the cubicles listens to whatever announcement Reeves has. Reeves says he wants the current draft of the front page sent to him immediately so he can make changes as they continue to gather information from social media and the press conference from PD.
Harry finally leaves the office and heads to his apartment. By this time the sidewalks aren't as congested by the honking has yet to subside. He makes it to his apartment and finds his roommate in the kitchen cooking spaghetti and meatballs for them; thank goodness, food.
Harry explains to Kenny the day's events which Kenny is shocked to learn his roommate witnessed it all. As Harry explains the assignment he's been given, Kenny looks at him with a worried look.
"So, where do you start?"
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a/n: long time no post. hi. im sorry.
unedited. probably lots of mistakes. i finally got inspired to write again.