9 h 49 AM

Tayla is in her office, a strangely-located room at the back of the Vil de Ville building. The decor remains liminal, a simple chic desk where sits appliances of all kinds as well as framed photographs. The neon-white lights are in opposition with the antique, belle époque-esque style of the building. There’s a harmful yet subtle scent hidden behind all this polished look.

The director is on the phone with someone she knows very well. Tayla’s installed on her chair with a mix of boredom and frustration. She taps her fingers on the desk with precipitation and rapidly fixes her hair as the conversation escalates.

“No offense, good sir, but may I remind you that it was YOUR idea to keep these documents susceptible to get stolen by some crazy demons! I followed YOUR orders and, like I warned you before, we are now in this situation!”

The voice at the other end of the phone sounds cruel and old, displaying a phony sense of wisdom.

“You think you’re such a smart gal’ reminding me of those details? If only you were good at keeping secrets from the government, as you are at keeping tabs on benigh information! You cooperated with the police, young woman! We had enough capacities to defend this place without no one ever finding out anything! This is what you get for that foolish, irresponsible decision to let outsiders deal with our affairs.”, insists the elder, hammering home her mistakes.

Tayla scoffs in disbelief, getting rid of her glasses. She almost slams them on the desk to the beat of her anger while revealing her brown eyes.

“These so-called “outsiders” are our people, Pinocchio! Your jokes make me sick! Our forces would have done nothing more than bring confusion to the people of Troposville! The government constantly handcuffs them with ridiculous laws. You’ll think they’ll just sit by as you drop an army over their heads!? That makes US the outsiders!”

“May I remind you that it’s your army too, madame McKenzie?”

She hesitates for a second. She’s this close to snapping her cellphone in half.

That’s when the door to her office opens. It’s Clark. He seems troubled behind his imposing exterior. Tayla notices him and signals him to wait, containing her exasperation in quarantine and putting back her tender facade. She sighs.

“Look, some entrepreneurs to fix the building are here, I’ll call you back this afternoon”.

The voice on the phone sounds confused.

“Don’t you mean construction work-?”, the elder doesn’t have time to finish his sentence. before Tayla closes her phone and gently places it on her desk, joining her hands together and crossing her legs.

“I apologize Clark, sincerely. I don’t wanna overwhelm you with my day-to-day. Come.”

Her voice sounds maternal, now that the two of them are alone in the same room. This woman, no matter the situation, always makes him uncomfortable despite them knowing each other for nine years. Clark could hear a faint whisper of the conversation from the other side of the door. She was clearly angry. her authoritarian tone keeps softening when nobody’s around. If there’s anything he hates equally to the political state of the world, it’s people putting masks on to hide who they really are. Now’s not the time to get tense with his boss however. He suppresses this strange feeling he can barely describe as much as he can. His lack of lived experience with women duplicates his anxiety, as he quietly enters the room and closes the door.

“To be blunt, I’ll have to apologize for the inconvenience, Mme McKenzie”.

“You can just call me Tayla here, Clark”, retorts the director, embarrassed.

“Right, sorry… I’ll be brief, I took a peak at the conversation and I think you’ll find the info we got is anything but motivating”.

Hearing this, Tayla picks up her glasses and puts them back on.

“Right… go on.”

Clark takes a small notebook from his pockets and gives it to his boss. Tayla takes the time to examine the entire notebook, a period of five minutes that seems to last half an hour.

“The problem is that we have enough info to speculate that your theory could be valid. The size of the hole on the ground, the documents stolen, the destroyed boxes. They took what was inside L-1162-40. They even went ahead and destroyed a bunch of devices like computers and even server rooms. There’s a lot of things in there… and I think the police would be asking a lot.”

It then clicks to Tayla as she looks back at her employee. Clark seems possessed by something. His eyes glow a tint crimson, immense in his tension.

“So you found out about the server rooms. How far have you guys checked?”

“Everything, Tayla”, mentions Clark. “It’s one thing to lock those things underground, it’s another to store computers and servers in those tight corridors! What could possibly be stored in those databases anyway??”

Clark was a thousand percent sure about what was in there. It’s what he’s been seeking all along. The archives on those mutations from the last ten years had to be kept in the underground safehouses for the scientists that come here every two weeks. Over one hundred visits in the library and Clark only had the chance to watch them get underground once, from afar. Generally, all employees and visitors are kicked out of the room, with Tayla being the sole personnel to step foot in this chamber.

That mutant took Clark’s opportunity and broke it in pieces. This setback is a blessing in disguise, for Clark now saw something he never had access to. And now, he wants answers to his questions more then ever.

“Mme McKenzie, those documents must contain information of high importance! We cannot let that slip away! Please give me all the information you now about-!”

Before Clark could ask about the documents further, Tayla slams the notepad on the desk. The violence of this act takes Clark out of balance. His director then takes off her glasses again and shoves her two hands on her face, hiding her expressions from the young man. Clark can sense bafflement. He stops dead on his own sentence, an instinctive will to care for her wellbeing jumps out and takes over.

Tayla breathes in and out all the weight of these archives on her meager shoulders. She’s distraught. When she finally gets her hands off her visage, Clark can see tears prepared to run through her cheeks. Immediately, Clark can sense his hands twitching. The young black man can feel the white knight syndrome kicking in and is doing everything in his power to stop himself from rushing to her emotional distress. Now’s not the time.

“This is not good at all, Clark”, responds Tayla. “I understand why you have those questions. It’s such a complicated thing to keep all this information under control. I wanted to play tough-to-get with our sponsors, I didn’t want night guards installed. I kept thinking it’s what the populace would want, that all of this would be fine. Now I’m paying the price…”

She looks at her desk for a few seconds, getting rid of the tears out of her face.

She then looks back at Clark in the eyes.

Clark’s hand twitches again. This strange feeling forces itself out again when their eyes meet.

It’s all in her gaze.

“Oh shit oh shit not again”, thinks Clark to himself, panicking.

“I always wanted a job like this and I did my work with diligence. Why is it that five years later something this annoying has to happen?”

She then bites her lower lip, just a little bit with her right canine tooth.

“What would you do if you we’re in my position, Clark?”

Clark is entranced by this stare that slowly slips in into nothingness. He swallows his saliva. There’s a mixture of deception tinted of a peculiar perfume in her tone of voice.

Desire.

It’s Clark’s desire that spikes up dramatically like this.

As soon as he recognizes the emotion, he snaps back to reality and shoves the emotion back into his consciousness.

“I’m gonna be real with you Tayla, I wouldn’t know a thing about dealing with this sort of crisis!” Clark responds so fast he isn’t sure if he’s still talking about Vil de Ville or about his own bothersome impulses.

Tayla can sense the tension took a hike. She sighs before putting back her glasses and speaking in a more professional manner. Her deception is still perceptible at times.

“Well, I owe you an apology for that. I think for now it will be simpler to install security cameras. I may need to get some security too down the road. Thank you again, Clark. Your work is extremely valued and appreciated here. With whom did you pick those notes?” Asks McKenzie.

“Ah of course! Hum, I didn’t take the notes, Geneviève put all the work there”, jolts out Clark like a reprimanded soldier. He’s blushing and thankful all this clear act of flirting is over.

“Perfect. In that case, I will call her in a minute. You can go back to helping the others… Oh and also, don’t worry about the underground corridor. I’ll fix all of it, you can believe that.”

She smiles gently towards him. It’s a sign that he can leave now.

Clark, with but only one of his questions answered, decides to leave the room. He knows that Tayla will be very distant from now on and will refuse to talk about this specific question, and so promptly leaves.

As soon as the door is closed, Clark begins to bombard himself with criticisms.

“Hey there you horny piece of crap? The heck was that about?? Always going crazy the second a woman gives a glimmer of attention!”, he barates to himself quietly. “She’s in her thirties. She’s your employer. Get it through your skull and move on please!”

His monologue is interrupted by his cellphone ringing. Inner thoughts become out loud reprimands when he sees Jano’s calling him.