4st encounter, that before.

-—- the events before the fourst time. moon 27. -—-

The myths around A Character of Romance’s raid were growing less important by the day at the office. New rumors and suspicions were swirling about the place, ones more tangible and frightening. Most of it was mere conversation starters: did-you-hears, what-ifs and creepy tales, and were broadly ignorable. They were obviously rooted in fantasy and exaggeration, playing off the creepier news we had heard from other companies in the superblock. But there was a residue that crept from each of these tales. A bit of festering negativity, which fed into the fears of those particularly vulnerable to these frights. In turn, they’d spread their own stories, and some of the stories would sound believable, or at least realistic enough to be frightened by. And so, the cycle would continue until the fad of the idea would die off. I had not had any interest in the tales, frankly.

It was not anything new, at least for this company. I suppose I could not speak on the social culture of other living offices, but this happened every now and again. It was usually something local, such as a thief being reported or a tale of office madness. Sometimes, it was about some overseas news - worries that some country was going to strike at the mainland soon because of some new technological innovation. These were short lived, though. There was hardly any real threat to them, and as such not as much fixation. But this time, it felt a bit more grim and heavy, looming over our heads like the breakroom’s low, tiled ceiling.

The clock ticked, a kettle was simmering on the stove behind Nedeyz. She was sitting down, theoretically. She was practically lounging, the chair’s back pushed as far as it could and the front three wheels were off the ground. She kept herself from toppling with her leg being tucked underneath the table. I knew if I tried it, I would either fall, or look wildly uncomfortable and unstable. I had to wonder if her smaller form allowed an easier time balancing like that. She always did this sort of lax-yet-perilous sitting, and she made it look incredibly cozy. Maybe for her, it was. Nobody knew where she picked up the habit from, though. Nobody else in the company really does it. At least that I had seen.

Her two chopped pigtails bounced as she threw her head back, her hat sliding down her forehead slightly. Her large jacket draped over the back of the chair, almost looking like a blanket. She kept a small saucer and teacup on her abdomen, which rose and fell as she breathed. She wasn’t usually this quiet. I knew she had been thinking of something, likely a conversations starter. Her tone was mellowed as she mentioned, “You all have heard about the murders lately, right?”

I kept my nod to a minimum. I did not have anything to add to a conversation like this. The other three in the room passed basic affirmations that they had as well. Someone at the table scoffed, obviously tired of hearing about it. This typically would have been perfect ammunition for Nedeyz to poke fun, but it seemed she was determined to talk about it. Still, I could see that she was tempted by pointing the scoff out. A flash of a smug grin told as much, before she returned to a more grim-stoking tone.

“Spooky stuff, isn’t it? The perpetrator still hasn’t been caught,” she noted matter-of-factly. She glanced down towards the tea she kept precariously perched. After ensuring that she was not spilling any on herself, she glanced to the people around the room. “Security folk haven’t shut up about it, lately. It’s nice to hang around you accountants and housekeeping people, though.” She grinned. “You all seem so much more reluctant to talk about it.”

Atqish practically spat, a gut-churning scoff which sounded to cut through a stockpile of mucus. The person had their hair carefully braided, twisting from their scalp down, and back around to make a total of four different loops. Tufts of curlier hair strutted out from their bangs, back of head, and between the loops. Said loops swayed lightly as Atqish shook their head. Nedeyz whipped her gaze to Atqish, before glancing back to her own teacup, and then back to Atqish. The rest of the room braced themselves as they began to speak, “You just don’t hear it, Ne.” Their eyes shot daggers across the room, to nobody in particular. “This place has the most cowardly of gossipers. Insects like them only chirp when nothin’ scary’s around: security, higher-ups, ect. They’d practically hide in the walls just to shoot pointless gossip and still feel safe.”

Few people ever actively listen to Atqish whenever they first start talking. This time was no different. We all knew that they were going to be a bit more nice as the conversation continued. They simply had a rough and aggressive approach to any new topic. Nedeyz laughed, saying, “I’ll tell the buds to start setting up microphones against the wall, just to keep ourselves in-the-know.” She tilted her head back again, thinking on what to ask. “What sort of tales have been circulating in your circles? I’m curious if you all are a bit more creative about this murder stuff.” Her face snarls in boredom, droning while adding, “If I have to hear that it’s some superspy gone rogue one more time, I’ll bust someone’s kneecap in.”

I didn’t really want to partake in the conversation, so I didn’t add what little I had heard. I knew that getting too invested in the whole event would just make me paranoid, and make my sleep worse. One of the others in the breakroom did mention that some were theorizing over some grand thief group having an internal dispute or something along those lines. The story itself was elaborate and long-winded, and they did not want to get into the brunt of the details. It wreaked of someone’s self-servicing thriller story made manifest. It mostly honed in on the detail that there were multiple company raids leading up to it. Some sort of thief group could well have built up a bit of experience in quick heists, and the team was now having some difficulties managing itself.

Nedeyz beamed, saying, “Now that’s what I like to hear! Much, much better, much more grounded in reality. I gotta wonder why my buds keep leaning on the tropes they do.”

Atqish rolled their eyes. Their growled voice felt to rip from their body, “Oh, come on. It doesn’t address so many details in the real reports. Its likely someone became overly-focused on some random small detail and blew it out of proportion into some grand robber tale.”

The guard cooed in curiosity, “Oh? Come on then, what details is it missing out on?”

They grumbled something, and pulled up a screen. The floating, virtual display showed an article which featured many interviews. They slowly became more invested in explaining a few of the different nuances. They pointed out a couple of notes, stating, “...And this one, all five of these share the same strange point.” Their voice softened, seemingly slightly enthused, “All five cases had people who were knocked unconscious without injury, but still had very similar phantom memories of being violently assaulted. They all happened right around the time of the actual murders. It’s such a mesmerizing detail…” They had an almost starry look to their eye, before returning with a sip of tea. Their expression hardened as they put down the cup. “But everyone would much rather regurgitate the same nonsense we’ve heard already. Lazy, parroted tales that are near identical to the last fifteen flavor-of-the-month mysteries.”

“Aw,” Nedeyz teased. She added in a false-pitying tone, “You just really want a new bedtime story? Is that why we’re grumpy today?”

“Choke, Nedeyz,” they responded, but not without a wry and guilty half-grin. My eyes cut to the window for a moment, seeing a larger, dark bird swooping by.

Nedeyz beamed, a small satisfaction radiating from her. “I guess it is a weird detail, you’re right. Probably difficult for ‘gossiping insects’ to really fit in their stories.” She took a sip from the small, steaming cup, carefully tilting it and attempting to not spill it on her face. A droplet, stray and rebellious, stung her cheek, and she subtly winced. She continued speaking afterwards, saying, “But I don’t think it necessarily discounts the whole ‘thief gang’ story, you know? This place has had a few run-ins too. Most all were amateur, and I’m sure that most all of you weren’t even told about them.”

One spoke up, a tone bathed in pure curiosity, “Pardon me, how could a few thieves pull the bizarre feats that Pr. Atqish had pointed out?”

Nedeyz’s eyes closed, her smile turning more intellectual. Her brow raised. “Oh, I know exactly how.” With a whip of her head and a stomp of her foot, she practically launched herself forward, erecting her chair upright. The wheels hit the ground with a pained near-crack, echoing through the room and jolting upright. Remnants of tea rocketed from her cup, crashing back down with a rainy drizzle sound. Everyone sat in startle, but not exactly surprise, at her antics. In a nearly whispered voice, she sounded her theory.

“Close-up. Magician. Thieves.”

Atqish spoke up first. “The fuck are you talking about, Ne?”

“Think about it.” She said, side-eying Atqish. “Think. About. It. They could be hypnotists, sleight of hand masters. The possibilities are narrow, but impossibly endless.” Atqish seemed to be more annoyed than before, but most of the rest of the table took it with levity.

I laughed, asking. “How could even a hypnotist make some random worker think that they were beat up, to the point of passing out? And why would they have murdered people, at that?”

The guard swiped her hand through the air, a dismissive cut. “Clearly, things are going wrong for them. They’ve been reported on more and more lately: the work of an amateur. Why do you think they are mostly amateur? Clearly, they are pouring most of their effort into utter mastery of the arts of a hypnotist, rather than thievery.” She pointed to me with a teasing finger, her tone shifting to a playful accusation, “I’m sure you of all people know exactly the weird things these sorts have been capable of…”

I cut my eyes away. Of course she was referencing the little encounter we had a few weeks back. I did not doubt that Nedeyz might have been honed in on investigating the Character of Romance case. It struck me as bizarre, hearing her mention it again. I felt like I understood A Character of Romance much better than the first time we met. I suppose it was strange to know that they were still seen as a object of mystery and investigation around the company, still.

I kept quiet again. I knew I would have had to be ridiculously careful with my words, as to not make Nedeyz start surveilling me in particular. I must have looked uncomfortable, and Atqish took note. They asked in their half-growled voice. “Woyrel? Everything okay?”

I brushed it off, looking towards Atqish. Responding quickly, “Yeah, thanks. Don’t worry about-”

As I gazed towards them, I saw something strange at the window. The bird was there again, gazing in the window. However, it seemed to be perched upon nothing but air. As I stared, the bird’s position seemed to suddenly shift, dipping up and down as if whatever it was theoretically perched upon was being moved. As the bird dropped down, it seemed to process the situation, and fluttered off.

I could see Atqish’s needled eyebrows dip, and they turned to see what was behind them. They missed the scene, and so did Nedeyz. She was far too busy getting her chair leaned back into position. However, the light-haired gal and meek-sounding person who spoke earlier both caught glimpse of it. They both glanced about to see if anyone had a similarly confused face, and I met their eyes.

“Strange, was that not? I do not know what that bird was doing.”

“Thank goodness,” the other whispered out. “I was worried that I was the only one who had seen that…”

Nedeyz was back into her traditional recline. With a curious tone, Nedeyz prompted, “Go on, Hayshw, what was it? I must have missed it.”

Hayshwziwch reluctantly continued, “Oh… it… there was a bird at the window, it was… floating?”

Nedeyz nodded objectively, “I hear that’s one of the many effects of ‘flying.’”

Atqish cracked up momentarily, before covering their mouth. The two others gave Nedeyz an almost disappointed look, Hayshwziwch’s face half-blushing. I groaned, dismissing Nedeyz instinctively, “You know what they meant.”

She shrugged, “Hardly, but I can look over the cameras. I hope we got a good angle of it.”

While the scene had certainly slowed our chat, it eventually picked up again. We talked about more mundane things afterwards, partly about office events and bracing ourselves for busier workdays, the weather and so on. I was glad to have the conversation away from the whole murderer rumors topic, even if I was still not invested in the chat.

My mind kept crawling back to what others might perceive of Romance. I knew not many people were partial to that case anymore. Still, I had to wonder how many people were connecting the two events. Nobody else really had the same amount of context I had about them, except maybe Shahtsro to some degree. To think that maybe others consider that perhaps Romance was some murderer in these grim cases, it was alien. But I could not deny that the thought pushed forth from the back of my mind, on occasion.

On one hand, of course I think that Romance wouldn’t be capable of something like that. I, to be clear, did not look into the details of the case deeply at that point. It was too unnerving. But even if the murders were the most circumstantial and accidental of incidents, I could not picture them being involved. Even with the strange trick they pulled to escape. But, I don’t think I could picture anyone I know as a murderer. The only image I have of one would be some cartoonishly evil person, which would likely never exist in any true capacity. There was this digging part in my heart, half knowing that murder doesn’t take these exaggerated prerequisites to take place. And I still hardly knew Romance. They did have secondary motives for wanting to speak with me again, and motives I still didn’t know. How did I know they weren’t just telling me what I wanted to hear? How did I know that their freelancing work didn’t involve some more terrible acts? It drained at me.

My shift rushed by like funneled honey - not particularly fast in a traditional sense, but efficiently getting to the destination. Nine hours, separated with a comfortable amount of breaks, left me and felt like they hardly even happened. I made a couple of mistakes at work, again. Luckily, the tools we use are fairly fool-proof, but it still cut back on my skill metric, and general efficiency. I was kind of aware that the bimonth’s reports would really show a dip in my performance and mood. The review I’d be having with my superiors would be painful to go through. They do genuinely try their best to seek that worker’s lives are comfortable and enjoyable. Partly, because research showed it was best for their work environment, and partially to get extra recognition and leeway from the Gushnnikst. But it still would be uncomfortable to go through, as I would want to ensure that I don’t bring up Romance’s involvement in all this. It’s not that I think I would be in trouble; honesty and proactive confession are recommended and appreciated. But, I did not want them to have more trouble running after them or anything. I did not want to be the reason they were halted in pursuing their goals, even if their goals were a bit strange for me.