Chapter Text
Evening. It was Ronald’s favorite time of the day.
Usually, he got off work at 6 PM. Time to be the first to stamp out his time card, run back home, take off his uniform, and get dressed up for a killer night. He’d get ready to skip to the dance floor, get high, drink, be naughty, do whatever he pleased and enjoy all the fun he wanted without any restrictions. That was when everything went according to plan.
This time, however, luck hadn't been on his side.
It was a cold and gray November evening, the last one before the end of his latest assignment. He had spent the last days investigating the Athena sanatorium under his superiors' orders posing as the flashy Dr. Knox, quite the questionable disguise for a man like him. Nevertheless, he made sure to get the job done on time. Today though, nothing went according to plan.
The high-spirited reaper had just escaped a brutal attack: Ronald didn’t expect it, and was just caught off guard.
Perhaps he underestimated the complexity of the case. Certainly, he underestimated something else. That was his supervisor Spears’ relentlessness.
Not only did he arrive there with perfect timing, but he made it in time to save him, scold him and threaten a reprimand against him all at once. That was how irremediably punctilious he was, such that it got pretty annoying at times. Though, despite the nagging, he knew he could count on Spears when needed most.
Ronald tried to let it all sink in, but the young man could swear he was almost at his wit’s end. He couldn’t conceal the escalating frustration. After the initial shock, he was now being accompanied back to the headquarters by his strict superior.
As the fog slowly fell and the sky steadily darkened, the two reapers departed from the isolated woods surrounding the Athena Sanatorium.
And as William had previously instructed, once returned to their realm, he and Ronald went their separate ways.
The former took the unconscious doll tied up inside a body bag with him, dragging it wherever he walked. No one dared to bat an eye at the bizarre sight of a visibly weary William T. Spears contemptuously pulling a body bag and slamming it everywhere. His colleagues were rather accustomed to such a sight whenever the source of his anger was a certain redhead. However, if the man needed an outlet for his stress this badly, the best thing to do was let that outlet be (as it usually was) someone – or (as it seemed to be at present) something – else.
William made his way to the Dispatch reception dragging the body weight alongside him as if it was nothing. He prepared his pen to fill in and sign the forms that he'd stamp to submit to the forensics secretary first, so that he could bring the corpse to their department afterwards. Then, he’d go back to his office to compile the latest daily report.
The latter, instead, hurriedly left his broken scythe at the reparations center. He quickly greeted his friends from the general affairs division as he passed by, and reluctantly headed to the offices of the retrieval department.
Employees entered and left, as everyone finished and submitted his report.
The typewriters of their division were available for public use. However, they had to be reserved prior to their use. The department used labels reporting the names of the operators and the day and timetables of the usage.
Preparing to submit the missing reports of the last two days, Ronald groaned, realizing he forgot to reserve a typewriter for his shift.
He then noticed an unlabeled typewriter. Sulking, he wore the sleeve guards available. The last time he wrote his reports without wearing those, he had stained one of his favorite branded jackets, unleashing curses that silenced the heavens.
Ronald inserted some paper sheets in and started to tap on the machine, but as the roller moved to the left, there was no trace of ink left on the paper.
He turned the typewriter, lowering his head to check the tool. As he turned it, Ronald accidentally toppled an inkwell left behind it. Ink spelled, staining the desk and his gloves.
“Oh, fo’ fuck’s sake!” He swore, covering the stain on the desk with a random book. He removed the dirty gloves and threw them in the nearest bin. He hit the mark. Only then he noticed a small yellow paper piece under the typewriter. He lifted the tool, uncovering a label with ‘broken’ written on it. As he did, he inadvertently stained his skin.
Who the hell left that note under the typewriter? Pricks, all of them. Fuck it. He was too tired to bother to fix it. If he wrote those reports by hand, the outcome would be the same. Frantically looking for a feather pen and another inkwell, he took other paper sheets. Retrieval employees were still provided with feather pens.
Ronald looked at his wristwatch. It was 7:50 PM. Maybe if he focused on those damn reports, he could pull it off in an hour. That couldn’t be bad. Relieved, he sat again, rubbing his cheeks. Then, he cracked his knuckles and clicked his tongue. He’d pull it off for sure.
Suddenly, a hand on his right shoulder startled him.
“Wha’ is it now…?” He whined, annoyed.
It was one of his fellows in the retrieval division who was carrying a large cardboard box. He poked at Ronald's shoulder as he laid it down.
“Mr. Spears asked me to bring you these.” He then opened the box, showing its contents. Inside it, there were piles upon piles of envelopes and sheets of paper.
“And…?” Ronald asked, disdained.
“He told me to remind you that once you’ve finished writing the reports, you have to leave them on his desk.”
Exasperated, Ronald brushed a strand of hair from his face with his knuckles. “I know. That’s wha’ I always do, so?”
The supervisor was known for his rigor, but why was it necessary to repeat such obvious things every time, he wondered. He must’ve thought everyone around him was a bloody idiot. As tired as he was, the implication was lost on Ronald at the moment.
“Tonight the higher-ups will hold an extraordinary meeting to discuss the current matters, but as for protocol, we still have to send out the formal invitation cards to our superiors. Mr. Spears said you’d be in charge.”
“Huh… Me?” he murmured, perplexed. What the hell was that about? Taking care of such matters was the duty of the general affairs department, obviously not his, so why was he asked to do it?
“Of course, the priority goes to your missing reports. When you’re finished, go to his office and he’ll show you the rest.”
“I’m writin’ them, already… Is there more?” He cried, but as Ronald finished asking the question, the lad left.
Rolling his eyes, Ronald took the feather pen in his right hand and he noticed his ink-stained fingers. He took the first wet rag he found in the drawer underneath, and cleaned his hands.
Spears himself had said he came to his rescue because of the missing reports – what else – and he was doing as he was told. What more could he ask of him now? It was getting late. His shift was supposed to be over ages ago and Ronald had to go home fast to get ready for his group date. He did his best to finish his task as quickly as possible, then, he’d leave.
As planned, an hour later, he finally finished writing. He took the paper sheets and ran to William’s office. He found the door opened.
“Knox.” He turned in his direction, recognizing his habit. “How many times did I tell you not to run in the hallway?”
“Ow. Y' right, sorry.” He apologized, scratching the back of his head. “’ ere, the reports.” Ronald delivered the sheets directly to William, ready to leave.
William raised his eyebrows. “Very well.”
He laid the papers on his desk. “I will read them soon. Now follow me, there are other things I need you to do.” To Ronald’s disappointment, he had no other choice but to abide by his request.
They walked back to the retrieval division department, where that cardboard box full of paper had been waiting for Ronald.
“As your colleague previously informed you, I will need to send our superiors the formal invitation cards for the extraordinary meeting we are holding tonight.” He reminded Ronald. William took some paper sheets and envelopes from the box. “And that is where you come into play.” He signaled Ronald to get closer, beckoning him. Ronald stepped forward.
“Fold these papers in half carefully, once vertically and then horizontally.” He explained as he showed him what was – at least according to him – the proper method to manage the documents. “I trust you can prevent the paper from squandering. These particular sheets are rather expensive. Are you capable of folding paper, I hope?”
Was he serious?
“I– of course, I am.” Ronald replied, his voice tone soured in an annoyed smile. He wasn’t hiding the frown of irritation on his face, either. Just who the hell did he think he was?
William ignored him.
“Good. Fold all the fifty papers, insert them in the envelopes, one paper sheet per envelope, and seal all of them with the official stamps. Then, bring the documents to the reception and send them to the recipients with the pigeons. Do not forget to sign and stamp the delivery forms. I trust you can pull it off in an hour, yes?”
“I dunno…” He admitted. “But–” again, this wasn’t the duty of a bloody retrieval division employee. He already handed him the reports. He should have left. Hopeless, he glanced at his watch again.
Ronald Knox still thought he could make it in time for his party. Truly regrettable. How laid-back of him.
To William, his behavior was incomprehensible.
The grave punishment they were doomed to bear shouldn’t leave space for anything but quiet anguish and bitter regret. Yet, Ronald Knox never failed to find fun and excitement. So eager and impulsive, he lived for the thrill. Whether it was optimism or recklessness, William couldn’t tell. Sometimes, he suspected Knox purposely chose not to take their job seriously.
Nonetheless, if the remiss report he submitted after the Campania accident was any indication, he thought he could get away with that attitude of his.
Not this time.
“When you are done, come to my office. You will find IDs, leather pens, paper sheets, and folders. Put all the items in alphabetical order in the box you were given earlier and go to meeting room A. There, lay the items on the desks still in alphabetical order. The gentlemen of the brass will gladly take notes during the meeting. Afterward, I need you to take inventory of the office supplies. We need data for the financial statement to submit to the accounting department by the end of the month.”
“Listen, Mr. Spears, y’ know better than me that this ain’t–” Ronald tried to protest.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” William added. He took another pile of envelopes from his desk. These were already sealed. Then, he turned toward Ronald again. “Leave an envelope of these in each department director’s letterbox.” He instructed, placing the paper pile in his arms.
He couldn’t be bloody serious.
“Mr. Spears… I ‘ope ya jokin’…” He dared tell him, laughing nervously.
“Knox. You know I would never make fun of you.” He replied, seemingly unfazed. “I met Mr. Othello earlier, and the research results are due soon. After the meeting, I will have to report the forensics findings as well. I would be pleased if you hurry up.” He turned his back on him again, grabbing his planner. “You can go, now.”
“…Right.” He mumbled, leaving his office.
Sulking, Ronald went back to the retrieval office, now empty.
Annoyed, he laid the material he was just given on the desk he used earlier. As told, he took the items from the box. The young man carefully folded all the papers and inserted each sheet in its envelope before sealing them.
This was the most stupid shit he ever had to do since he joined the ranks of the Reapers Dispatch Association.
Ronald felt defeated.
It was obvious now that he’d skip his beloved group date again. However, not only did he feel irritated. He began to feel the fatigue of the last days, too.
And, not unusually, overtime it was.
At that point, all he wanted to do was go home and get some sleep. After all the misadventures of the last mission, it sounded as good as partying… if not even better, this time around.
He didn’t know how much it took him, but he couldn’t believe he completed the first task. Even as a pigeon almost pooped on his jacket, getting things done still felt rewarding. If the evening started with an inglorious defeat, it could end with a glorious triumph.
If Spears mocked him, Ronald would take him seriously.
If Spears challenged him, Ronald would play by the rules.
“Um, let’s see. Business forms…?” Crouched, Ronald narrowed his eyes, focused.
“…Thirteen…Twenty-two…Thirty-Seven…Fifty-Two… Ninety-Four.”
“Binders…”
“…Fourteen…Forty-One…Sixty-Three…One Hundred and Twelve …”
“Clipboards…”
“…Twenty-Four…Fifty-Three…Sixty-Seven…”
Ronald squinted his eyes.
“…Calendars.”
“…Seventeen…Seventy-Two…One Hundred and Thirty-Three”
“…Planners.”
“…Thirty-Six…Ninety-Nine”
With the Inventory form in hand, he was in the warehouse. He had already counted more than five hundred items.
He sighed.
After checking dozens of closets and hundreds of supplies, he opened the last one, crouching once again.
Only a folder of paper sheets was left. Feeling victorious, he got ready for the last counting.
“…Paper sheets…”
“…”
“…One Hundred!” He exclaimed, content.
As he filled in the last form, he raised to leave. However, when he turned, Ronald noticed some pieces of paper under the last folder of sheets he just finished checking.
He lifted the sheets, uncovering other folders of worn-out paper. Now he had to start counting from the start again. Exasperated, he put his hands in his head, screaming, not unlike many hours earlier.
Despite his supervisor’s reminder, sick of it all, Ronald ran along the corridors and flights of stairs of the entire Dispatch building. As a retrieval division employee, he had never seen the highest floors, kept hidden from the newbies’ watch. He left all the sealed envelopes in their respective letter boxes, double-checking to make sure the full names on the envelopes matched the full names of the boxes.
When he finished, exhausted but satisfied, the reaper went down the stairs to return to the retrieval department.
Ronald finally completed the absurd tasks William assigned him.
He stopped in the hallway to catch his breath, checking his wristwatch: it was 11:23 PM. There was hardly anyone around. He guessed the employees of the night shift were already on the field.
Then, he caught Spears across the corridor. He could tell the older man was as tired as he was. The supervisor checked his planner, leaning against the wall. Sighing, he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Apparently, he needed a moment to collect his thoughts.
If the stern man allowed himself a moment to stand still, that meant he also completed his assignments.
So, Ronald decided to seize the chance and have a word with him. He walked stealthily down the hallway till he stood in front of his supervisor.
“Mr. Spears, fancy a cup of tea?”