"Mr. Steven! What do you have to say about the mayor's recent scandal?!"
"Sir! Sir! Do you believe the accusations against Mayor Hagenah true?!"
"Hey! Are you covering for the mayor's shit?!"
Steven groans to himself, jogging a little faster. The small crowd of journalists keep up with him somehow, cameras, papers, and all. It's actually a little concerning. How do they do this, and what must he sacrifice to be like them?
"God, I just want garlic bread!" He snaps without even realizing it, turning to them and yelling angrily. It's rather out of character, but hey, what can you do on two hours of sleep? "Please, let me get some coffee, then I promise you guys we can talk! Better yet, join me for coffee and carbs! The more the merrier!"
The more, the less likely he'll actually have to pay, he thinks to himself. Steven tries his best to not cringe as the reporters follow him into his favorite cafe.
(He's gonna have to learn the name of this place soon. Or maybe he'll just make up his own name for it. Who knows?)
Steven allows the horde of reporters to sit with him, whispering an apology to the stunned baristas. He also pleads for help, but all they do is smile with pity and wish him luck.
To be blunt, the interview sucks. Steven half-apologises for eating in the interview, then explains that he was too busy being swarmed by other reporters to actually work, so he had to stay late and didn't get much sleep. You know, he guilt trips them.
It's a very interesting experience for Steven. He'll have to give Ritz shit for it later.
---
"What do you mean you lost the grant money?" Steven stares incredulously at someone from the Public Works department. The young intern (?) looks guilty as he shrugs. "Isn't the money listed in the budget? You should have it."
"They're saying they don't," the young guy explains. He shifts uneasily and then frowns, fiddling with something in his jacket pocket. "It's listed in the budget but we're missing half of the money."
Steven looks at the sheet of paper the intern hands him. It's a copy of the budget but with notes scribbled all over.
Dedicated Funds:
Donations from five different charity groups...
Park fees..?
$300,000 grant from State...
"How much of it is gone?"
"Roughly two hundred grand," the intern says quietly.
Steven feels himself tense. That's not good. He knows this is a matter of security, so naturally the Public Works guys should go to them, right? Why is there an intern at his desk then?
"That's a little more than half," Steven says, attempting to lighten the mood. He smiles at the intern. "You steal any of it?"
"Ah, no. I don't think I'd trust myself with that much money," the intern mumbles. He shifts around, his pocket... moving?
Steven knows he's not going to be able to do much about this money problem until Ritz comes back from his meetings upstate. This means he can give into his curiosity with minimal fear. He points at the intern's pocket and looks him directly in the eyes. "What's in there?"
"H- huh? My pocket?" The intern is uneasy. He looks around nervously before frowning. "Uh.... Will you get mad at me?"
"Depends. Is it drugs or a Nintendo DS?"
The intern laughs softly, his face growing red as he looks around. He opens his mouth to speak and...
And there's someone behind him. Steven has no idea who it is, but he knows that this person is not supposed to be here. They're not exactly in the room, so to speak (in the hall outside, to be specific,) but still, not supposed to be here.
To say the least, it puts Steven on edge.
The fact that the man pulls out a gun certainly doesn't help.
(Steven finds himself noting that hey, at least the guy doesn't have powers. Or at least, no powers that can directly harm.)
Steven looks at the intern, then leans in close. "Listen," he whispers. "I want you to walk to the back. Pretend you're going to get papers, and hide behind the filing cabinets, as quietly as possible."
The intern picks up on Steven's shift in attitude immediately. He nods, eyes wide and face pale. Then he does as Steven asks, hiding away behind the unnecessarily large amounts of filing cabinets.
Steven decides to use what he has on him to call for help. He texts someone in a different department to call the cops (because if Steven did it himself, it would be very loud and hysteric) and silently rethinks his life choices.
Of course, the weird gun guy notices him. Then Steven is forced to make a decision, and his decision reeks of anxiety and irrationality, just like the rest of him.
He grabs his weapon of choice- his laptop- then goes at the guy.
(Spoiler: it does not go well for anyone involved.)
--
"So, the dude just came in demanding to see the Mayor and shot?" A police officer is standing above him, and is spinning in circles.
"... What? Mayor? Why would he want to shoot mayonnaise?" Steven is confused. Why is the cop here again?
A new person speaks. "I'm not a doctor, but I think he's hurt."
Steven wants to vomit. "I.... Hemo. Hemoglobin. Hemorrhoid? I have hemo... hemophobia. I'm afraid of hemos." He's supposed to be remembering something here. He knows it.
Oh, that's right. He needs to find a blanket. It's awfully cold for this time of year.
"The bleeding stopped. We're waiting on the ambulance to arrive." The cop makes a weird face as he turns to a small, young man. "You sure you went to med school?"
"Three years, yeah. Hated it. He's in shock, he's cold and probably needs a transfusion. You need to warm him and elevate his feet and... and maybe avoid gangrene?"
Something warm and dark covers his face. Steven is satisfied. He's aware of laughter, and decides to laugh with them.
Now another person arrives! So many people are here today! "Well, we caught the guy on camera, but that's about it. There's no telling where he went. You sure the ambulance is on the way?"
He's cold, but less cold than before. He's also tired, but that one is fixable.
Steven takes a well deserved nap, on the floor of the main room in the City Hall, solely because he's a badass (and totally not because he got shot).
YOU ARE READING
[cityscape] [a derp crew superhero au kinda]
Fanfiction"You know, for someone that spends their days doing such a shitty job.... You're pretty funny!" "You mean cleaning up after your dumb crew's messes? Yeah, it's pretty shit." "That's John's fault." "Half of the downtown park is encased in ice." "That...