NOTE: I had to censor a few things for language purposes. Just use your imagination
Prologue: Break Room
Mid-afternoons were usually quiet in the massive break room. Today was no exception. With a maximum occupancy of 50, it only reached its limit (sometimes in excess) during lunch. Several plain white, circular tables were arranged around the room with matching chairs. A soft, pale blue light gave the room a soothing atmosphere. Though a mere hour ago every seat was taken, there was no evidence. The cleaning crew was always on top of things. Spotless, pristine, and all the chairs squared with the tables, it was a wonder why the room was so unused.
The professionalism required of all who are employed in the building had a lot to do with it. This was no ordinary workplace. No business meetings, no conference calls, and no forecasted budgets found their home here (an occasional financial report, but they were rare). It was a hospital of sorts. The patients there had special conditions, and special needs. As such, all prospective employees were screened for their ability to drop anything at any time, and rush to work. They were used to eating as quickly as possible, then returning to their tasks. So perhaps it wasn’t really such a mystery why the break room was so empty.
The break room saw the occasional employee stop in, grab a quick drink from the refrigerator, and leave. Sometimes they would hang around for a minute or two to catch the day’s headlines from the news on the large wall-mounted television. Not today. Today, the television had an audience; a single man sprawled on the sofa facing it. The news bored him. A man almost in his thirties, he was much more interested in sporting events, like football. While the rest of the workers busted their humps getting work done, he was content to take it easy every once in a while.
He was quite a character. His style made him stick out like a sore thumb in this environment, but he paid no mind, nor did anyone else. His medium length wavy brown hair wasn’t exactly the most professional style for the workplace, but he kept it clean. His co-workers were used to his trench coat he always wore (unless he set it on the arms of the couch, as if to say “I’m on break. Do not disturb.”). No one questioned him when he wore his matching brown Panama hat, and gloves indoors. Office clothing never appealed to him, so he always wore whatever he was most comfortable; a white t-shirt and blue jeans.
The nature of his job gave him these luxuries. He wasn’t an ordinary employee. He was much more involved with the patients. Only one of his character could perform it with such enthusiasm. Perhaps that’s what made him so good at his job. He was happy in what most people would consider a depressing environment.
On the opposite side of the room, another employee sat alone at one of the tables, a woman in her twenties. She wore her dirty blond hair in a tight ponytail. She looked equally out of place, but in a different fashion. Everything she wore was a size or two larger than what she needed. Her white, sleeveless shirt hung loosely over her torso. The effect was exaggerated by the fact that she practically had no bust. Her grey sweatpants barely touched her skin whenever she walked, held up only by the tightened drawstring around her waist. The only fitted clothing she had was a pair of gloves, which she never seemed to remove.
As odd as her apparel was, the her most striking attribute was her physique. This was aided by her refusal to wear makeup. With nothing to draw attention to her face, her well-toned muscles, and thin frame stood out even more.
With such an outfit, one would expect her to be coming from or going to a workout session. A logical assumption, but it was incorrect. She did her routine early in the morning. These clothes were her chosen style.
She often liked to sit alone in the break room during the slow periods. A simple mind game was all she needed to relax. Today, it was solitaire. Seven columns of playing cards lined the table in front of her. She had been playing for a few minutes, but had little to show for it. The stock pile had barely been touched, only two aces were set in the foundation stacks (both red), and a host of face cards and an occasional mid- value card topped the columns.
Seeing no available moves, she turned the top stock card over. The Two of Spades. There was nothing she could do with it, so she drew the next card. The Seven of Diamonds. Again, there was nothing she could do. She continued drawing cards from the stock. Every once in a while, she found a red card to place over a black on one of the columns or vice versa, but nothing that would help get the game moving. Whenever she encountered this situation, she would cheat a little “just to get things moving along”. She took the face-up card from the seventh column, and buried it at the bottom, then turned the next card over. The Queen of Clubs.
That was the last straw. The game was over. She decided to peek at all the face-down cards in each column. Buried deep within the fifth and seventh columns were the two black aces. The low-value cards she needed to build up the foundations were scattered everywhere else. Frustration welled up inside her until it reached its boiling point. She let out an exasperated sigh and slammed her fist on the table.
“You gotta be kidding me! What a crock ‘a ****!” she bellowed.
The man on the couch continued watching football highlights, and smiled to himself. He was used to her outbursts. It amused him whenever she got so worked up over trivial matters. There were so many ways he could mess around with her. Without even turning around to face her, he made his first move.
“Don’t tell me a deck of cards is cheating this time”.
Not amused by his comments, the woman fired back just as quickly. “What? You gonna confiscate these too? Just back the hell off, Joe”.
This was exactly the response he wanted. He had the next few exchanges already planned out in his mind. The end result would be hilarious, but he would no doubt suffer her signature punishing grapple. Weighing the pros and cons of the situation, he decided it would be worth the pain for a good laugh.
Joe sat up on the sofa, and casually hung his arm over the side as he half turned to face her. “Confiscate? Oh, you mean the Playstation? Well, it’s mine, and no one seemed to be using it. It had nothing to do with you throwing a hissy fit. Buuuuuut, if you want, I’ll bring it back and set it up for ya. It’s almost 4:00. You won’t have to wait long” he retorted. The next move was set. Would she take the bait?
The woman met his gaze with an apathetic stare. After a moment, she merely rolled her eyes, sighed under her breath, and started picking up the cards. “You and your appointments. I just don’t get you. How many times have you been burned? Yet you keep going back” she answered with disdain in her voice. Under her breath, she added “What a ****”.
Success. Joe anticipated this response as well. One more move, then he could go for the metaphorical jugular. He was already laughing on the inside, though his exterior masked it with a convincing look of concern. “You would have me walk away?” he asked. His capricious nature was so commonplace that many would assume a serious moment would mean his guard was down. The woman fell into this category. She leapt at the opportunity to silence him for once.
“What you do is your own business. Me? I wouldn’t even look back”. The woman was never afraid to speak her mind, even if it meant assaulting someone’s values. However, she underestimated just how sturdy Joe’s values were. He didn’t care what she thought. He was confident in his own choices. That didn’t stop him from exploiting them to get a rise out of somebody.
Joe went for his finishing move, and mentally prepared himself for the retaliation that was sure to follow. “That’s just cold, even for an ice queen like you. And you wonder why I call you ‘Frozen Patty’?”
Game. Set. Match. Joe knew how to press her buttons. Taking her given name and twisting it to imply she was a processed piece of meat always did the trick. Patty’s face flushed red as she violently stood up, knocking over her seat, and stomped towards Joe. “I’ll show you frozen!” she blurted, tearing off a glove as she made her approach.
Like a samurai awaiting the swipe of a sword to end his life with honor and dignity, Joe didn’t flinch. He closed his eyes, and simply waited for his punishment. Patty reached out to grab Joe, but stopped short. Both of them instinctively looked out into the hallway through the windows of the double doors.
A shrill alarm resounded throughout the facility. It was rare to hear this sound, but all who inhabited the building knew its meaning. The clamor of people rushing to their positions could be heard outside the break room. For a moment, neither Joe, nor Patty moved. Patty’s hand was still mere inches away from Joe’s neck.
After the surprise of the moment had passed, Joe slowly raised his right hand and extended it to Patty (still unmoving). He had not anticipated such a miraculous save, but it had provided another small opportunity to bug Patty. All it took was two small phrases.
“Congratulations. I guess you’re no longer the new guy”.
Patty finally moved again. Without even looking at Joe, or altering her expression, she simply swatted his hand away in annoyance.
