Finger guns.

When someone was mad at you, there was a one-hundred and one percent chance finger guns would disarm that anger and make everyone love you in an instant.

"Heeeey, Groovy Grover~"

That was, of course, a lumpy load of bullshit, because as Roxanne waltzed into her boss' room with finger guns, Grover didn't so much as twitch.

In fact, she could've sworn his lips curled down. But that couldn't be right. She was a sweet little angel. Grover loved her.

"You're late."

Yup. Feeling the love, here.

"Oh? Am I?" She was. Very, super, mega late. Like, so late other workers were leaving when she arrived.

Grover's grumpy face intensified. She couldn't figure out why. She'd been nothing but courteous and charming ever since she arrived in his bland-looking office.

If he wasn't secretly a huggable, lovable, dorky teddy bear, Roxanne would've been intimidated by his large figure, beard, and - worst of all - baldness.

"I should have you fired." Okay, yeah, maybe she was sort of intimidated by his large figure, beard, and baldness. "Here at Wow News, we don't tolerate laziness."

Her shoulders shot up rigidly as she hissed. "Well, I wouldn't call it laziness... more like... preferring to hang out with my friend who listens to me instead of my boss who doesn't despite my idea being amazeballs!"

Shit.

The thin ice she was walking on cracked completely, and now she was a finless fish uselessly flapping about on land trying to swim. No, bad analogy. Got to think of a better one later.

Grover stood from his comfy-looking old chair, the furniture squeaking as he parted with it, towering over her. She looked like a midget compared to the old guy.

"Need I remind you that your theories don't fit in our criteria? That theories in general are never allowed?"

Logically, she saw why. Wow News was this city's most trustworthy and well-known news company; delivering the truths, double-checking facts. She would know. She used to dream about working here.

Wow News wasn't the kind of place to sell shady, scary theories revolving around criminals and superpowers. That was what the internet was for. And, though Roxanne loved the internet and all, it didn't have the same goldstar reputation as this company.

Plus, if she published it under her name, she wasn't sure anybody would want to read it, apart from Claire and Grover and a small portion of her friends, maybe. With Wow News... she could reach a whole range of audience; Crystal City's population was currently somewhere between 800.000(ish) residents, and at least two-thirds of them read Wow News. Do the math yourself.

Usually, she'd control herself better, but with how Claire was dismissing her words back at Starbucks like it was some stupid game, Roxanne truly had enough of this shit.

"Then where am I gonna publish this stuff?!"

Damn. There she went again, using words like double-edged swords.

The cat clock kept ticking with each second, its eyes darting left and right as if it too was nervous.

Grover's face was neutral, like always, and even after two years of working with him, she still couldn't tell if he was angry or sad. Maybe both?

Oh, and her finger-drumming got more intense.

"That is not my concern." Roxanne was momentarily enthralled by how his booming voice echoed in the office. How was it possible that Grover could sound so calm and fatherly in one moment, yet remind her of a military general in the next?

She didn't back down, even if it was probably the better choice, in hindsight. "C'mon, this is, like, Shane Dawson level good!"

"Who the bloody hell is Shane Dawson?"

She, flabbergasted, put a hand on her chest. Grover was ancient. "He's the best theorist, like, ever! Einstein would've fanboyed over him!"

"Really, now?" He sounded amused and happy. It fueled her excitement.

"Yes!" she hissed. "Newton would want me to be his senpai! It's that good!"

"It sure is."

"The best part is that it's not a stretch! It makes sense. It's so legit it's not even a theory anymore!"

"Even if it is a legit theory, I still can't let you publish it under this company's name. We are a newspaper company."

With that, Roxanne slumped back into her seat, defeated, letting out a sigh similar to a dying hedgehog.

The thin walls did little to block out the outside noise. She could hear the printers buzzing, doing their work. There were many clicking sounds of people typing, people who were older, more experienced, and less of a mess than her. Roxanne even heard someone muffling their cough.

What was the point of walls if you could still hear everything from the other side?

"Beti, you need to remember there are many ways to speak. You can't use this company as a crutch." Roxanne blinked. Grover would sometimes call her that. She didn't know what it meant, but she hoped it was his way of showing fondness to her. Without glancing at the clock, he said, "Now, you have twenty minutes to crank up news people would drool over."

"You shall receive that drool-worthy news in ten minutes!" Five minutes, really, but she wasn't going to tell him that lest he pressured her even more. She might work good under pressure, but that didn't mean she wanted to be under pressure in the first place.

He looked at her strangely, then shook his head like an overworked father. "If it wasn't you, I wouldn't believe it."

"Thank you, Mister Grover." Despite the sarcasm, she truly meant her gratitude.

The steel in his face slowly washed away, replaced by a far gentler, kinder one that relaxed all of her nerves.

"How's your sister doing?"

With that, all the formalities between her and her boss was gone. Sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chair, Roxanne was now talking with Aditya Grover, a man who begrudgingly let her have this job despite of her screw-ups and his warnings that he'd fire her if she kept screwing up and her doing crazier screw-ups.

She'd always liked his office. It had a gloomy, 'haunted mansion' type of feel to it, especially with the electronic candles he'd purchased and the bookshelf on one side of the room with very little books. She'd once asked him why he bought that bookshelf if he wasn't even a fan of literature, and he'd strictly replied "My wife wants a bookshelf. She's getting her bookshelf."

That was the day Roxanne had found out just how whipped Groovy was. She would've found the short leash terrifying if she didn't know how nice Katreena Groover was.

Her triangle burritos were, like, the best thing in the world. Roxanne's mouth watered imagining those heavenly-foods.

With a chuckle, she said, "For the infinith time, Claire's not my sister."

Is infinith a word? I feel like infinith's a word.

"And for the infinith time, I won't believe it."

Infinith is definitely a real word if Groover used it.

Grover looked at her expectantly, taking a sip - was that Dr Pepper? - from his wine glass. Roxanne felt like she was back at school again. The principal's office, to be exact.

She drummed her fingers to the armrest of her chair. She couldn't stop herself from doing it. It was instinct whenever she was disturbed or agitated. Kind of like how Claire would fidget, but louder and more annoying. Tap, tap, tap. There goes your patience.

"Fine. She's doing fine." It came out more like a snarl than anything, and Roxanne hated herself for it because she knew she was being overdramatic. Grover was being nice to her and, in return, all he got was angsty teenage bullshit.

"She's not doing fine, is she?"

"She's not doing fine," she admitted with a sigh, sinking into the chair further. "I don't know what her deal is. Like, I'm on board with helping her, and I know she does need help, so stop looking at me like that."

Grover averted his eyes and adjusted his tie. Wise guy.

Exhaustion. The exhaustion was always the most noticeable thing. Claire would go back to their apartment wincing with every step, looking guilty and happy, looking back onto her shoulder as though she were expecting something behind her.

Sometimes she'd beat herself up over it for days. She'd become quiet - quieter than she already was - and Roxanne had to pull herself together and keep up the oblivious act because one of them had to stay strong.

It was hard when Claire couldn't smile, even with all of the jokes, the stories, the old memories she'd told. And sometimes Claire would fake her smile, and it would break her heart even more because faking a smile was more hurtful than not smiling at all, and Roxanne didn't want Claire to fake a smile for her.

There was no alcohol involved, no drugs, no weird boyfriends; nothing. At times, Roxanne wished there was one of those things, because then it'd be easier to deal with it. This, on the other hand...

She didn't know what this was.

She only knew that it hurt Claire. And Claire didn't want it to stop.

"She never tells me anything and I don't know why... doesn't she trust me?"

Any other person would feel ashamed or embarrassed for opening up to their bosses like this. That person wasn't her and that person didn't have Groover as their boss.

Grover reached out with his big, meaty hand, then withdrew it, awkwardly resting it on the desk. He was kind of similar to Claire with how awkward they were with physical contact. But with Grover, he was awkward to her because of the age difference and their boss-employee relationship, whereas with Claire... she was just awkward, no explanation needed.

"Sometimes people just need some time before they can open up."

Roxanne rolled her eyes. She'd heard this advice many times before, just with different words. "It's been five years."

For a second, his mask of calm broke, showing clear interest and concern, then he concealed it swiftly. "Some secrets are that big."

She gave a half-ass shrug. "Or maybe she's just being a dick." Looking up, she found him giving her a disapproving look that was teacherly. Ah. Right. She forgot how much he hated curs- cussing. "Sorry."

He made a small satisfied hum, then turned "I still haven't told my wife I'm a fan of Glee after twelve years of marrying her."

"I don't even have a clue what her deal is." Thoughts that weren't PG began to cloud her mind. "Is she a smoker? An alcoholic? Is she secretly a por-"

"Do not say that word in my office." Ah. Yes. Profanity was bad and shit. "Fifteen minutes, beti."

"A por...celain maker." Nice save. Plus, Claire could never be a 'porcelain maker', she turned into a puddle of embarrassed goo just thinking about kissing. "It bums me out. This theory bums me out. Lots of things bum me out." She hid her face with her arm, moaning as though her headache wasn't metaphorical. "The fear of never getting recognized as a superb reporter super bums me out."

"You're many things; late, loud, messy, annoying, ullu ka pattha."

"... I don't even know what that last word means."

Grover smiled. It kind of freaked her out because it meant that whatever he'd said must be super profane.

"Katrina adores you," he said reluctantly.

Her mood brightened. She managed a heartfelt smile and touched her chest. Heh. Once a theater kid, always a theater kid. "And I adore her triangle burritos."

"Samosas."

"Same thing."

"Ten minutes, Brooks."

She abruptly stood up, abruptly saluted - because man, Grover could be such a military man - and left, though not before saying. "Yes, sir."

Oh, and she finger-gunned him too, because why not?

Once outside, she immediately pulled out her phone and ran through her social media feed - not her personal account, but the account she used to hunt for news when she had no idea herself. She needed something special, something people would want to read, something she herself would want to read.

And that was when she found it, the diamond in the rough.

A young billionaire from the big city rumored to have dropped out of Harvard.

"Interesting..."

...

The beauty of the dark was that everyone feared it. That was why it used the dark to its advantage. People who stayed and smiled and cackled in the dark... they were usually bad people.

It hated and loved bad people. Hated them because they hurt people, loved them because without them, it wouldn't be able to have fun.

People... people who didn't want trouble avoided the dark. Even when they heard yelling and shouting and calls for help, they turned a blind eye and walked the other way.

Crystal City was like that.

And it used the city's flaws to do what needed to be done.

It looked down from the rooftop of the building, waiting and waiting and waiting until it couldn't wait anymore.

Briefly, it looked forward, admiring the city in the night and how it looked like a painting of black with sparkles of yellow lights against a deep blue backdrop.

It didn't admire for long.

Soon, it could sense them; foul souls belonging to people with little light in their hearts. People who loved getting others hurt. People who'd caused a form of suffering.

It was a siren call.

...

Beta Reader and Editor: FeugoFox42 (From FF.net)

...

After talking with a few Wattpad users and my own friends, I've realised that Wattpad users prefer reading stories with around 1k-2k words. Because of that, I cut each chapter into two parts, which resulted in me having 11 groomed and perfected chapters instead of 6.

Due to the shortened chapters, I've also decided to post twice a week instead of once. I feel it is only fair for everyone that way. My updating schedule is Sunday and Friday.

This chapter is interesting for me because of the carefree style it has. It's due to the fact that this is from Roxanne's POV instead of Claire's. Whereas Claire is more stiff and timid, Roxanne is... well... Roxanne. I hope you guys can see the kind of character Roxanne is; her motives, flaws, personality, etc. Also, the last part of the story... pretty weird, right?

See you on Friday~