Chapter Text
Victim had woken up, gotten out of bed, showered, changed, and was now on his way downstairs to make himself breakfast.
Vic was now wearing his grey suit with its hits of dark blue. Though he was wearing his favourite shirt, it was a regular white shirt. The only difference between it and any other would be his name of which Mitsi had embroidered on the tag.
The toast popped out of his toaster.
He leaned against the counter as he used a butter knife, spreading the butter on before sitting down.
He felt normal. Victim was normal, normal enough for a billionaire. His house was like any other, he didn’t waste his money, he donated to charities quite often. And feeds a stray cat that occasionally stops by, like his neighbours.
Victim’s eyes drifted over to the clock that was mounted on the wall.
“4:18”, It read.
Driving to work takes fifteen minutes; the parking lot attached to the work building is always full by five which is when Victim comes and opens up. Work had been slow recently and that was nice, though it wasn’t at the same time, the requests for repairs had just been coming in slower. There was always something to repair ever since the terrorist attack.
After about five minutes, he had finished eating and turned the tap on to wash his hands. Placing the dishes in the sink he checked his phone. He always checked his emails before leaving, to see if anyone couldn't make it or if he’d forgotten about anything important.
There was nothing.
Carrying around a briefcase made him feel ‘too posh’ though he continued to back his laptop, stray documents that he’d brought home to look over, and a few stationary items. He looked at the time again. It was half-past now.
{ Too early to leave. }
So Victim rested the briefcase on the wall beside the door and went back into the kitchen. He grabbed a container from the cabinet and filled it with cat food. For the stray.
The house was two stories high. Clean, wooden stairs led up to the second floor that contained two bedrooms, one at the end of the hall, the other beside it at a right angle, and a bathroom closest to the stairs. The bottom floor had a living-dining room and a kitchen with a built-in wardrobe attached to the wall.
Victim glanced to the side at a framed photo, leaning on the top of a drawer that was beside the front door before unlocking it and sitting on his stoop porch.
The photo was of him, Mitsi, and Agent Smith. Back when Agent was a police officer, back when he and Mitsi had just founded their company, Rocket Co. And back when Mitsi was alive.
Victim placed the cat food on the bottom step of the stoop porch as he sat against his door. Waiting, he sat there and eventually Willow came.
Willow was the name for the stray cat that everyone in the neighbourhood had silently agreed on. Her fur was a mixture of orange, black, and white. It was cute. The only reason no one had taken her in yet was because everyone was occupied with their own families and life.
He quite liked leaving food out for her. Though she normally ate said cat food while he was at work, only seeing her on the front door cameras.
She ate, eventually finished, and scurried off.
After taking the now empty container back inside, he tied on his shoes, grabbed his briefcase and keys, and locked the door behind him.
“4:41”
Victim got into his car and drove off to work.
////
The first lunch break started.
Although a quarter of the workers are out doing jobs and fixing up houses, there were so many people working here that it was split into two parts. Categorised by who started working first and their age.
Though the people with more complicated jobs, jobs that require testing, and the younger workers that would be there part time because of school, would be allowed to go down to eat whenever they’d like in that time period between the start of the first lunch and end of the second.
By fourteen: forty-two [14:42] Victim was already in his office on his laptop, reviewing applications and requests for work. Including texts asking if and when Rocket Co could come over to repair their home or something else.
That’s when he received an email for the receptionist, Miss Wilson. He opened it.
////
Red.
He has two hair clips with yellow as the base colour in his maroon coloured hair. He'd tried to dye it a more vibrant red but because of his light brown hair - that he didn't know he should've bleached - it turned out a maroon red.
He'd asked his friends to help him with it so it didn't turn out that bad. But because they're all young boys that know basically nothing about hair, they didn't know they'd have to bleach Red's hair for the colour to be more accurate.
He's wearing an oversized white t-shirt that he'd drawn cute little animals on, such as a pig, a fox, a dog, cat, and a few others that were dotted all around his shirt.
His shorts were a dull red and stopped four centimetres over where his knee began, and wearing white and red striped socks. Red also had a light brown shoulder bag with the head and front legs of a cute little pig plushie that he named Reuben, sticking out over the top.
He was planning to go out, hence the shoulder bag on indoors, but he hadn’t quite thought of when. All his friends were at school right now.
He’s twelve years old and currently in foster care. Luckily for him, his foster parents - Sarah and Luke - of whom he’s been living with for around half a year now own a cat. Her name was Kiwi.
She’s a brown tabby cat, she's old. Very old. Twenty and is most likely to die soon. That upset Red and the couple, but it was never like they could do anything about it.
He liked dressing her up, he’d bought and given her a little crocheted strawberry hat, and now he gently tied the strings together under her chin and watched her lay on her cat bed while eating breakfast.
Today would be a school day, Friday. But Red had thrown up the day before since he was bet into eating who-knows-what by another classmate while having lunch, for ten pounds. Though it hurt, at least he’d gotten his ten pounds and three days off school! It was a win-win in his mind.
“Hey, kiddo, why don’t you take Kiwi for a walk?” Sarah spoke.
“I can?”
“Of course,” Luke responded, “You never know when the sweet girl’ll die and since she’s an indoor cat, who knows? She might’ve been secretly craving to go outside. The last time she left was around . . . Six years ago.” Luke nodded, confirming in his mind what he’d just said. “Kiwi likes you so she’ll probably follow you around, we’re not putting a harness on her since most cat owners think it’s cruel now, or whatever.”
Red looked over to Kiwi.
“Really??? OH MY GOSH YAY! I can show her where I buy all her costumes with my pocket money and– And a lot of her toys! And the park, and–
“Slow down, we get it Red.” Sarah smiled at him and Luke sighed.
“Just remember to be back by three, okay? And don’t be late, don’t be trouble.”
“I won’t!” The boy stood up, stuffing his last pancake into his mouth and swallowing it before picking up Kiwi from her bed. She purred in response. “Kiwi! It’s adventure timeeeee.”
The boy and cat left.
Sarah sighed in relief when they left.
“Finally getting him away again, hm?”
Sarah nodded.
To | (victim's work email)@gmail.com
Subject | A child's missing pet.
There's a young boy here that says that he was walking with his cat and it ran in here. Please could you ask someone to find a tabby cat wearing a strawberry hat? The cat entered the lift before he could get her. It was empty so no one’ll come to bring that cat down. I can keep the boy here at reception while the cat is being found if that's ok with you?
Thank you.
{ Hm. }, Victim thought that the email was clearly rushed as this receptionist in particular, Miss Wilson, likes to write long emails. Exhaustingly long emails.
[[Out of time]]
--Ms Wilson had written this in a hurry because Red, the young boy in question, was stressed out. He was worried that if Kiwi wasn't found soon, then his foster parents might get mad at him .. He'd promised to be home by three. Red hadn't told Miss Wilson that, but she could tell that he was stressed. Like any child would be when their cat had run into a large and complicated building.--
Hm. }, Victim thought that the email was clearly rushed as this receptionist in particular, Miss Wilson, likes to write long
Before he could reply to the email, a “Ding” sound had come from the lift in front of him. His office was quite literally on a separate floor, and so when he looked up, he could see the lift.
The doors separated, revealing… A cat? More specifically a tabby cat who was wearing a small, cute strawberry hat.
The tabby walked into the office and started to sniff around. The doors to the lift closed behind her.
"..."
[The cat meowed]
Victim sighed and looked back to his laptop and started writing an email in reply to Miss Wilson’s. In the email he explained that the cat, most likely the one the boy had lost, ended up on his office floor and he told the receptionist to send the boy up.
So when she receives the email, she does.
////
Red's currently standing in the corner of the lift. He wasn't really nervous. Red's never really been afraid to venture out. But he didn't feel like talking to some rich guy that he didn't know right now. All he needs to do is get his foster parent’s cat and leave. Simple enough, right? He stared at the numbers that slowly changed above the lift’s doors.
"15" … "16" …
He stretched his arms out before letting them go back to his sides, Red’s plan? Run in and quickly pick up Kiwi, then go back to the lift and press the ground floors' button as fast as he possibly can. He looked at the watch that wasn't in his wrist but in his shoulder bag because the strap had broken when he was bored and started to chew on it…
It was ten minutes until he physically has to walk through his career’s front doors.
"18"
The lady said that the boss's office floor was close to the top. He turned his head back to the buttons on the wall of the lift. Over twenty floors in total. He thought it seemed a bit obsessive, but he didn’t really care that much.
////
"Ding!"
The lift's doors opened, revealing a young boy. Victim looked up and as he was about to greet the young boy, the kid had already rushed in and picked his cat up. Vic noticed a bruise on his arm as he reached down to pick up the tabby cat.
"Thanks and byes!"
"Oh? Uh, wait a sec."
Red stopped just before re-entering the lift. "Um. yeah?"
Victim gestured towards Red, "You ok? You have a bruise on your arm?"
:o
"Oh um."
Red looked down at one of his arms and there lay a bruise. A bruise that he had gotten from play-fighting with his friends. He's never cared about his bruises that much.
"Yea I was just play-fighting with my friends. So.. Yea, um, bye!"
"Play-fighting?"
"BYE."
Red had stepped into the lift and pressed the button to the bottom floor. Victim was left in his office. Confused.
Meanwhile, red was riding down the lift, Kiwi in arms. He's just glad that he left as quickly as he could. Red looked down at his watch. He read, "14:59".
{ Oh no. Only a minute to get home? } He panicked since he hadn’t even left the building yet.
He ran down the pavement, counting the house numbers as he went, 35, 36, 37... 38! His foster parent's house! Opening the gate and going up to the front door, he put Kiwi down and opened the door.
He went in after her and.... No one was there? Red wandered into the kitchen. He expected to come home and be yelled at. Sarah and Luke were nice most of the time, but when he did something wrong they were loud.
That's when he spotted a bit of paper stuck on the fridge with a fridge magnet. It said about how Sarah and Luke were going to go shopping and how he should clean his room while they're away. Ugh. He hated cleaning his room.
"Stupid room, stupid cleaning..." He mumbled to himself as he slid his shoes off using the opposite foot to drag the heel of each shoe down.
Kiwi settled into her bed while Red started forcing his legs to take him upstairs. He opened the door and looked around his room, it wasn't messy.
Well, it was barely messy. A poster had fallen onto the ground, a few pens scattered around here and there, a shirt that he'd forgotten to put away when he was changing this morning.. But to him it seemed relatively clean.
Red sat on his bed, took his shoulder bag off and placed it beside him. The only thing in it was Reuben, a minecraft dirt block keychain that he found on the ground, and his broken watch - which was attached to the strap of the bag. He placed Reuben on his nightstand and put the bag, which still had his watch and keychain, on the ground beside his bed. He'll clean later.
But first.. just a little nap..