My office door opened and I looked up as Jenny, my research librarian, stormed across the room to the supply cabinet. She began rummaging through the shelves, tossing aside pens, pads and sundry office supplies.
I went back to sharpening my writing quills. After a few minutes Jenny stopped her search in obvious frustration.
“Silencers,” She demanded.
“Hmmm?” I answered without looking up.
“Silencers,” She repeated. “Where are the goddamn silencers?”
“Next to the staplers,” I answered
I looked up and saw her screwing a silencer onto the end of her .40 caliber Sig Saur semi-automatic.
“Is someone feeling a little cranky?” I asked.
“Huh,” She spared me a disapproving glance over her spectacles. She reached up to the cabinet’s highest shelf and pulled down a pair of .40 caliber magazines. She slapped one into the Sig, and dropped the second into her purse. She pulled back the slide on the pistol, cocking it, and strode back toward the door.
“Bad commute this morning?” I ventured.
She stopped and turned on me, waving the pistol in my direction as if wagging a disapproving finger at me.
“Don’t you start with me, Mister. If I’m upset, it’s totally your fault. I can’t believe the shit you bring into this office.”
“Time out,” I said. “First of all, stop waving that cannon around. Secondly, what’s all my fault?”
She glanced at the gun in her hand, rolled her eyes.
“Sissy,” She set the SIG down on the desk.
“The EVE mafia.” she said.
“The what?” I asked
Her eyes narrowed.
“The. EVE. Mafia. Remember? Real money trading? Virtual black markets and payola? Shadowy conspiracy threatening to destroy your cartoon game thingy? The blog post you're spending way too much time writing?
Well, you’ve brought them down on us. You and that stupid article you’re writing. Two of them were waiting for me out by my car when I left for work this morning.”
“They threatened you?
“No, they insulted me,”
"By threatening me without trying to bribe me first. What do they think you’re paying me?"
“So they did threaten you.”
“Barely,” she sniffed. “Let’s just say that twenty hours a day playing EVE is not good for your muscle tone.“
She looked down at her hand. “I think I broke a nail. And one of them bled on my new jacket.”
"I’ll pay for cleaning,” I offered.
"Damn straight you will,” she said. She picked up her handgun and turned to leave.
“Jenny,” I said.
She turned, one hand on the door, and regarded me with a raised eyebrow.
“So you’re OK?”
“Of course,” She said.
“And not worried about the EVE Mafia?”
“Pffft!” She said with a dismissing wave. “As if.”
“Then why…?” I pointed at the gun in her hand.
“Oh, this?” she said, holding up the Sig as she stepped through the door. “Mouse in the ladies room.”