Gecko-Man

VIII. The Misadventurous Shenanigans of October Rayn

A storm was brewing.
After the brief and sudden downpour on the day of Fin's funeral the weather had become only slightly brighter, and not a lot dryer, but the slow morning drizzle seemed like nothing more than a faded memory of the day before.
But now the sky was darkening once again.
The sun tried uselessly to burst through the gradually thickening clouds and although the wind had picked up there was a stillness in the air, as if the heavy sky itself was holding its breath– It was the calm before the storm.
October stood in front of the building that was silhouetted against the slate sky which glowed in front of a white sun, and she shivered.
Orem had just called her to tell her that he'd lied about the promotion, that he'd been fired and that he was so sorry and would work twenty hours a day if it fixed things. October had asked him why he hadn't tried working that hard before he'd got fired. Orem had said because he was stupid and lazy. Orem was right. October didn't want to talk to him now, but she'd knew he'd fix everything eventually. He always did, in the end.
Orem was scared of losing October, and October knew it. But it wasn't like she wanted to lose him; she just wanted him to stop being stupid. And he was stupid- Orem was an idiot and Orem was irresponsible, but he was still the best thing to ever happen to October, and she didn't want to lose him just as much as he didn't want to lose her.
October was just disappointed with Orem right now, and the whole TrewCorp thing wasn't making anything easier.
Up until now, she'd thought that she'd taken the whole Orem-turning-into-a-lizard-man situation rather well, and she'd felt neither positive nor negative emotions while discussing the matter, just keen interest. But now October felt like she had just stepped out of a half dream, in which she'd been awake and yet everything around her had been slightly surreal, which she'd just taken for granted and was only now realising the ridiculousness of what had happened. She couldn't understand it, or get her head around it. How could someone mix two completely different sets of DNA together like that? It was impossible, the subject would die. But it had happened. Orem wasn't pulling a stupidly elaborate prank on her– It had really happened, which meant either she was very, very wrong about the possibility of mixing DNA, or there was something entirely otherworldly going on. Something out of her realm of understanding.,
Well, I'll just have to find out, she thought, and, smoothing down the creases in her best journalist's trouser suit, October walked across the road and into TrewCorp Headquarters.

She stepped into the cool, air-conditioned building and whistled under her breath. Now this was a headquarters.
October loved the way some walls were sharp and angular, while others were smooth and flowing. She loved that they sat next to each other in harmony, seamlessly blending into one another, like chaos and order working peacefully side by side. But she loved the staircase the most just because it looked really, really cool.
She looked for a reception desk and went to the one right at the back, the only one without anyone talking to the receptionist.
"Hi," October said.
The receptionist– whom October could only describe as frumpy– looked up from her computer monitor lazily.
"I'm here to see Mr Trewin," continued October.
The receptionist– Anne, it said on her name tag– just raised her eyebrow.
October smiled.
"Do you have an apointment?" Anne asked as if it were rude for October not to tell her.
"Uh, well, no. But it's important."
Anne looked at her from under heavy eyelids for a few seconds before looking back to her computer.
"If you don't have an appointment you can't see Mr Trewin," she said.
She didn't look back up.
October didn't leave.
Anne glanced up uncomfortably and tried to concentrate on her computering.
October didn't leave.
Anne blew air from her nose and sat up, looking at the impertinent woman who wouldn't take no for an answer standing in front of her.
"You can't see Mr Trewin, ma'am," she said, apparently attempting to be polite and smiling in a way that made October think Anne the receptionist had ever truly been in a good mood.
"Listen, Anne," – Anne grimaced slightly at the use of her name – "I really, really need to see Mr Trewin, about matter which concern him very greatly. So please let me see him."
Anne dropped the politeness as quickly as she'd picked it up. "You cannot see him. Now please leave before I call security."
October dropped her facade as well, and leaned in.
"Alright, Anne. I'll go. But there's a lot going on here that you don't know about. People's lives are on the line. Innocent, helpless people who are going to get hurt. Daughters will lose their mothers and mothers lose their daughters. Children will cry and scream and call for their parents and parents will call for their children but there'll be no answer. But alright. I'll leave. I'll leave the death and destruction of everyone you might love on your shoulders because you'll be the one preventing me from talking to Mr Trewin and saving those who matter. Do you have a daughter, Anne? Because your daughter's life is in your hands right now. And all you have to do to make sure she's safe is call up to Mr Trewin's office and see if he can have a word with me. Of course, I could be mad, I could be talking nonsense, but do you really want to risk it, Anne? Do you want to risk losing your daughter just because you can't be bothered to press a button and ask Mr Trewin if he's busy? Think about it very, very hard, Anne."
Anne the receptionist had gone pale, and slowly tapped the dials on the phone next to her, only glancing away from October to make sure she was getting the number right.
October walked a little way away while Anne spoke to Trewin's secretary, and smiled to herself.
"Ma'am?"
October turned to the scared Anne.
"You can go up. Floor thirty-five, wooden door on the left."