Spike and Rodger 01

Rodger stood on the sidewalk outside of the office building where he worked. He spent ten hours every day locked inside of that tall thirty story prison made of glass and concrete. This moment like the three others of its kind were his few moments of relief from the keyboard and holo-screen that ruled his life as he crunched mindless numbers.

From his pocket he pulled a pack of cigarettes. He didn’t have the extra stitches this week to get the expensive pack that he normally got so he would spend much of his time coughing up pieces of his lungs until this pack was gone. He put the small stick of relief between his lips and went for his lighter. No matter how hard he searched his pockets he couldn’t find it.

Then it hit him, he had to take it out of his pocket to get a pen that had slipped down into the depths and he had set the lighter on his desk which was where it remained. With a deep sigh he removed the cigarette from between his lips with his thumb and pointer finger.

Rodger looked around at the sidewalk where people were smoking and enjoying their breaks. He noticed Spike, a man that always weirded him out, smoking and looking up at the building that they worked in.

“Could I bum up pyro?” Rodger asked making his way over to stand next to Spike.

“Right, sure.” Spike said handing over his lighter.

Rodger took the lighter and lit his own cigarette. He breathed in the glorious smoke that was slowly killing him, but he didn’t care. Something had to kill him it might as well have been something that gave him relief.

“Where do you think they came from?” Spike asked still staring up at the building.

“Where do I think what came from?” Rodger asked.

“Tire treads on the walls.” Spike said pointing up at the side of the building.

“What are you talking about?” Rodger asked turning to match Spike’s gaze, “Oh, there are indeed tire tracks on the walls.”

“Yeah, where did you think they came from?” Spike asked again.

“If I had to guess it was Carpool, or some crazy ass vehicle based bridger.” Rodger sighed. The two men stood side by side oblivious to the world around them staring up at the building.

Tracks went from right to left starting at eye level and at its highest point was about thirty feet off of the ground. They were wide like they belong to some kind of large truck.

Spike reached forward to touch what looked like the start of the tire track and there was a resounding crack. A second later every window with a tire track on it splintered. "Shit! Do you think they'll blame me?!"

Rodger busted out laughing having to lean down on his knees the laugher was coming so hard. He had to fight to get air into his lungs.

“You are so fired!” He managed to say between deep inhales of air.

“No man? Really?” Spike asked. He started to look around nervously.

“Probably. You know we always get blamed for the shit that Bridgers do.” Rodger said clapping Spike on the shoulder, “It’s been nice working with you. Well, I guess I can’t say that because we work it two different departments.” Rodger said wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. He handed Spike his lighter and walked away leaving the man with his fate in the air, “I hope that you’ve dropped some points in Fate my man.” He called back over his shoulder.

Rodger road the elevator back up to his office on the seventeenth floor. He walked down the halls with a fair bit of pep in his step saying high to the people that he passed. When he walked into his office, he left the door open so that people could lean in and greet him.

He sat down at his computer and opened the spread sheet that he was currently working on. There were thousands of numbers on the screen. A smile stretched across his face as he started to work. A few times he started to chuckle when he thought of the look of shock on Spike’s face as all of the glass splintered at his touch.

“Um, Rodger, do you have a minute?” His supervisor, Mike, asked leaning into the door.

“Sure Mr. Morres.” Rodger smiled and leaned back in his chair.

“Great, Thanks.” Mike said elongating the pronunciation of each word. He walked into the room and closed the door. Standing up straight he folded his hands in front of him.

“New client?” Rodger asked. They had been expecting that a new large client was going to be signed to the company and there was going to be a new manager chosen from everyone at his employment level.

“Yes, but that is not what this is concerning.” Mike sighed.

“I’ve filled out all of this week’s reports and I’ve gotten a head start on next weeks.” Rodger said.

“Well, you see, this company is a series of cogs and if those cogs aren’t working together then…” Mike continued speaking, but Rodger zoned out. Whenever any management had to do something uncomfortable, they resorted to the stupid facsimiles. It was like some kind of skill they received for getting any of the high-level corporate feats, “In conclusion we are going to have to let you go.” He finished.

“What? Why?” Rodger demanded.

“Didn’t you hear anything about my cog speech?” Mike asked looking a little hurt.

“I did but I didn’t think you were going to fire me. What’s going on? Is this prank?” Rodger stood up from his desk.

“I assure you that this is very serious.” Mike said sternly. He opened a holographic screen that began to play a record of when Spike touched the tire tracks and him busting out laughing.

“I didn’t have anything to do with that.” Rodger said.

“Destruction of company property is a very serious offense.” Mike said.

“I agree but I didn’t have anything to do with that!” Rodger said pointing angerly at the holo-screen.

“Please take your belongings and leave the premises.” Mike said crossing his arms.

“Really, that’s it?” Rodger asked.

“Please do not make me have to call security.” Mike said as he hovered his hand over the phone.

“Alright, fine.” Rodger said throwing up his hands in defeat.

Mike nodded sharply and watched him like a hawk. Rodger took a few moments to grab the three mementos that were around the room. An old gaming controller from about ten years before he was born that was signed by Nalison who won the Murder Night tournament eight times in a row, and a couple of pictures of his family.

Mike escorted Rodger to the elevator. The doors opened and Rodger stepped on board. Mike held out his hand for Rodger to turn over his badge. Without it he would only be able to get out of the building and nowhere else. The doors closed and Rodger was alone with his thoughts.

Three floors down on this trip the doors opened again, and Spike stepped onto the elevator carrying a box filled with his personal belongings. When the elevator started moving the to of them stood in silence.

Spike started laughing as hard as Rodger had when they were on the street.

“What so funny?!” Rodger demanded.

“You got fired too. If I don’t laugh, I’m going to cry.” Spike admitted.

“You’re weird.” Rodger said sharply.

“I know. I don’t know how I’m going to pay my bills.” Spike hacked out between laughs.

“This is your fault.” Rodger said.

“No, it’s not. Do you want to go get a drink?” Spike was finally starting to calm down.

“Fine.” Rodger said after a long sigh. He had nothing better to do than get drunk in the middle of the day.