AN: Hiya! I'm writing this because I wanted to take a break from the other fanfiction I'm currently writing. Plus, I liked writing in second person view so much I thought I ought to go all the way. This chapter is a tad short, though.
By the way; my first language isn't English. So be patient.
Read and review, please!
PS: I have posted this fic before and deleted it, but I've decided to put it back on just to keep all options open.
You're leaning your back against the wall, your eyelids are getting heavy. You're starting to wonder how long your boss intends to work this time. Suddenly, the door to the office flings open, and it's only your good reflexes that stops it from slamming into your face and give you a rather unpleasant date with your dentist. Your boss walks out; you can almost see the black cloud over his head, raining and sending angry, lethal jolts of thunder. Like always, his mood never shows on his face, but you know Nikita Kalentieva well enough to see when he is really pissed. He turns his head towards you with an utterly bored expression on his face.
"McKenzie. I didn't see you there," he said with a slight smirk; lying, of course. You are always standing there, at exactly the same spot. You smile widely at him while he eyes you up and down with a raised brow. You can practically hear him say, once again; "Why aren't you wearing your sunglasses?", "Why don't you cut your hair?", "Lost you razor again, I see.", "For Heaven's sake, wear your suit already!"
But to your surprise, he just sighs and adjusts his spectacles. He turns his back at you and heads for the elevator in the other end of the office floor. You quickly run after him.
"Going home for today, Boss?" you ask cheerfully. Nikita barely affords to send a glance in your direction.
"Yes," he says eventually, "after I've found Alma Lien, and forced her out of the building."
"She's the scientist who always works?"
He pushes the elevator button and folds his hands behind his back. You seize the opportunity to study the thin, pink scar that stretches from right under his jaw, to his cheek and across the nose bridge to about to centimeters below the pupil of his left eye. You sometimes to try and come up with theories to how he had gotten it, as a method to kill off time at the most boring times of your days. There is an additional scar on his left cheek, far thicker and coarser than the other one, but you already know how he has gotten that one; it was the one that gave you your job. A sniper had attempted to assassinate him, aimed for his head and barely missed. Ever since that Nikita had felt in need of a human shield. Namely you. But you didn't complain, as the joyful and happy-go-lucky kind of person you are, and you had been unemployed for a while. So you felt flattered that the proud owner of Science, Research and Development Inc. wanted you to be his bodyguard.
"Floor: twenty-nine. Office," the female computer voice announces coldly as the elevator arrives, and the doors opens. You grin as you walk in after your boss, wondering if the owner of the voice is as hot as she sounds. Nikita folds his arms and pouts in annoyance as the music starts to play.
"I can't remember what on Earth convinced me to get that installed," he says dryly. The glow from the down-lights is reflected in the golden ring on his finger.
"I heard there was a kind of elevator-music in Japan that made people commit suicide," you throw in, glad that he isn't directing his bad mood at you. He snorts in contempt.
"Doesn't surprise me. I'll call the electrician on Monday, and tell her to cut the damned wires."
"Floor: three. Labs."
She sounds cold, but she is so hot.
"Are you coming or what?" Nikita snaps in your direction.
You have been walking around in the massive lab for about seventeen minutes, when you spot a curly head resting on some technical drawings on a desk. Nikita walk past you and bends over her, with a look of – worry?
"Aw, isn't that cute, Boss," you say as you step next to him. "Sleeping like a baby."
"I told her to take a week off," he murmurs, sounding disheartened. He grabs her purse and shoves his hand down it, to search for something. You stare at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Boss? What are you doing?"
"Looking for her apartment keys," he answers. A second later, a flash of silver shoots up from the purse. "Got them. Now carry her to the foyer, we'll hand her over to that security guard – what's his name? John? Jack? Anyways, he'll drive her home."
"Will do, Boss."
You lift her out of her chair, surprised at how light she is. She looks like she hasn't eaten for days, her skin is pale and sallow, and she has very deep, dark and reddish circles around her eyes. It's a shame, you think; she looks like she can be very attractive. You toss her over your shoulder, and follow your boss. Nikita walks in front of you, with her purse clutched in his hand. A middle-aged cleaner walks towards you, eyes widen as they fix on the purse. Nikita frowns.
"Whatever you're thinking is not true, and if you don't stop thinking it, you'll lose your job," Nikita snaps at him as he passes you. You glance curiously over your shoulder, and see that he is doing the same with an amusingly baffled look on his face. You grin widely and give him a thumbs-up sign, before your gaze turns back to the hallway. Nikita flips out his cell phone, and types a number.
"Hello, John?... David, okay. Stop whatever you're doing and go to the foyer, you are going to drive Alma home. Yes, again. Come immediately." With that, Nikita hangs up on him, and shoves the phone back into his suit jacket. Then he stops.
"What's the matter, Boss?" you ask, and give Alma a slight jerk.
"I need to use the toilet."
"Just place her in that chair, next to the little tree."
As always, you follow his order and place her in the chair, but you make sure that she sits as comfortable as possible. Luckily, the men's room is just around the corner of the corridor. The door squeaks as it's opened. Nikita lets out a sound of repugnance as he spots several balls of wet toilet paper stuck in the ceiling and walls.
"Disgusting pigs," he mutters under his breath and walks into one of the booths. You fold your arms and lean against the wall with a raised eyebrow.
Why can't he use the urinals like other people?
Nikita opens the buckle of his belt, and unzips his suit pants. He grimaces as he sees the large, dark brown stain inside the toilet bowl. As he is about to empty himself, a sudden voice causes him to jump backwards and crash into the booth door.
"Yes. Piss on me, why don't you. Like everyone else. It would be a nice change though, compared to all the crap I usually go through. No pun intended."
Nikita's eyes darts from side to side in confusion and he desperately tries to locate the source of the voice. He only prays it isn't his head.
"Great. Now he is ignoring me," the voice sulks. It sounds like it's coming from inside a well. "Just ignore me, like everyone else! No one cares about old Bobby anymore. He isn't worth shit. No pun intended."
Nikita's head turns slowly towards the toilet. He takes a hesitant step towards it, with a tilted head and puckered brows.
Was the toilet just…talking to me?
"Hello…?" he says slowly, with his eyes fixed on the water in the bowl. "S-someone there…?
"Damn straight someone's here!" the toilet hollers angrily. "Namely me! But you were about to take a piss on me, so why should you care? By the way, flashing is very rude. And illegal."
Nikita quickly zips up his pants again, anger and confusion rising inside him.
"The toilet is talking to me?" he exclaims in shock and disbelief.
"Don't be silly," the voice snaps. "Of course I'm not a toilet."
A gentle knock on the door startles Nikita. He sighs in relief as he hears you ask:
"Boss, is everything okay? Who are you talking to?"
"Oh, thank God! Please tell me you hear him too!"
"Yeah, Boss… what are you doing in there with another man?"
Nikita flings the door up in anger, almost hitting your face again. He directs his finger at the toilet.
"Does that look like a man to you?!"
"For the last time; I'm not a toilet, you imbecile!"
Both of you jump from the sudden outburst from the owner of the voice. You hear him sigh in annoyance.
"My name is Bob. I am a guard of dimensions. I used to be in the most exciting and exotic places! I mean wow! But just because my sourly chief caught me having some fun with his wife, I'm now stuck here in this sorry excuse of a dimension… and I can't do dick about it. But if…"
You exchange looks with your boss. It's clear that he has a pretty hard time believing what is happening.
"… If I brought someone with me," Bob continues, his voice intensifying with excitement, "if I brought someone with me to another dimension, I would have to stay there to guard them…! Yes! Yes! That's what I'll do! I'll take you schmucks with me! Haha! Hahahahaha! HA!"
Now Nikita is starting to lose his temper. He takes a threatening step towards the toilet.
"Listen, Bobby," he snarls while clenching his fists. "I haven't the foggiest what you have been smoking lately, and frankly I don't care. We're not going anywhere with you, so you can start making sense just about now and give me the number of your lawyer, because I'll call the police and have them haul your perverted ass out of there!"
Bob snorts. "Say whatever you please. Clamp a hand over your mouths, that way you won't vomit."
A screeching, metallic sound above your head makes the fine hair on your neck stand. Your eyes slowly turn up to see what is happening. A large tube of some kind has appeared in the ceiling. Nikita's jaw drops.
"What in God's name...?!"
An intense, whizzing sound fills the entire room, making you clamp your hands over your ears. Suddenly, your boss is no longer next to you. A grey flash is sucked up into the tub with a scream of terror, and a split second you're involuntarily following the flash. The wind hits your face and make your eyes water. You open your mouth to scream, but your head slams into something hard and all of your senses die…