Janet was late once more.
If she cared not so much for the way her body took presence, she would have been found barreling the streets with flying papers. Good thing she was as thin as a lampost, for she squeezed through the morning crowd with practiced ease, keeping her late-night work tight against her chest.
Stumbling into the office, a headquarter for The Magazine, she checked herself in and began the climb up the narrow staircase.
Any other day she would have been awarded an earful.
But, entering the door on the third floor—to the lion's den (the writers' office)—she was met with a panicked hustle of frantic editors. Tending to the frenzy of their manager.
"I don't care, God Damnit!" He barked. Janet placed her things on her desk, "I need a story, and I need one, fast! One of you's better step forward for the job before I pick you out like ants."
Writers were normally ready to slit the others' throats in favour of the first one chosen. But, not this story. Janet knew what they talked of before she heard any further. Her dress glided in the glass room, bangs pulled back.
"You people are acting like it's hell. It's just an interview, cowards!"
"I'll do it." She cut through the tension.
The group turned and gave way to reveal a balding man, smoking behind his desk.
"That so?" He said, fingers rubbing an angry forehead
She brought her glasses to the bridge of her nose. "Y-yes, sir."
"Well, get to work, then! I wanna be the first one to publish this article." He pointed a black pen in her direction, "You better know what you're doing, girl."
"I have it all figured out, sir."
Everything after that passed in a blink, and Janet found herself treading a dangerous path to the heart of the prison: the belly of the beast.
A white bulb shone in measured intervals as the station air went stiff the further she was led down the hall. Reaching the end, the officer dragged open a thick, metal door. The room was dark, save for a floeurecent light that flickered over a plastic table with two chairs on opposite sides.
Janet waited just outside the threshold. He cleared his throat.
"Ahem." Holding out a gloved hand, he gestured.
"Oh." Janet flinched, and took her place in the nearby chair.
The door banged shut as she waited for the criminal's entry. A couple of men stood adjacent at her rear with loaded rifles. She checked off the necessary items once more. Her eyes scanned every corner, except for the door at her front. Tapping a nervous finger on her knee, she jostled when the handle turned. He finally showed.
A disheveled figure stepped into the room, shivering with the cold. Hands tied forward, he strode over, and took the other seat.
"It's good to meet you. My name is Janet." She began instantly, looking over him with a raised chin, "I suppose we shall start simple. What is your name?"
"Please." He scoffed, "Like you don't know that already."
"I'm just getting formalities out of the way."
The air shifted.
"Fine, then." He chuckled, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Janey. I'm Daniel Taine. And, I'm afraid I did something I wasn't supposed to."