More Than One?

            “Not again,” Dan says.

            “I was really starting to like this office,” I add.

            “How about you guys start sketching out construction plans after we go up the 20 floors to street level?” Brent asks.

            “Can T.B. help?” I ask. I am not an art major nor will I ever contest to the opposite.

            “I will be glad to, but first I need to survive,” T.B. shouts chasing off towards our ‘emergency exit.’

            “Oh right, bomb, time, we’re supposed to be running for safety,” I inform.

            “Gotcha,” Brent says, taking off in T.B.’s dust.

            “We could always do that romantic dying thing were the male and female confess their love to one another in their final moments,” Dan suggests.

            “You really need to stop watching Nicholas Spark’s movies,” I say taking off.

            “So is that a no?” Dan asks meeting my pace.

            “That’s a; I need a male to do that with first,” beating him to the car.

            “I swear I have the junk to prove it,” Dan states taking a seat across from me.

Brent closes the doors, and pushes ‘the button.’ You know that big red button? The one you’re obviously not supposed to touch incase of extenuating circumstances, that’s the button. It pushes our little train underground to severe speeds to another safe location a safe distance away. So much safety, I don’t think I like it.

            “I know you do Dan, I saw the plastic surgery bills.”

            “How are you gonna come out of that whole Dan?” Brent asks, intrigued as the car was already speeding away.

            “I’m thinking P.D.A. what are your thoughts on the matter Brent?”

            “I’m thinking she might kick that impressive plastic surgery loose if you do P.D.A.”

            “T.B. are you on my side?” Dan asks.

            “Hell no, I like this laptop, and would like to keep it in working condition.”

            “Have you made up your mind yet Dan?” I ask.

            “I’ll give you a 24 hour notice of my move.”

            “Thank God we never played chess together Dan,” T.B. says rising from his seat as the train pulls to a stop.

            “I just can’t win today can I?”

            “What day did you win?” we all ask.

            “You’ll all find out one day,” Dan says swaying out of the train and into our temporary office.

            “I want a 24 hour notice of that too,” Brent says leading us to T.B.’s temporary workspace.

            “So why were we just bombed?”

            “I don’t know,” T.B. says taking a seat in front of his monitor children.

            “Who bombed us?”

            “I am unsure.”

            “What do you know?”

            “I know that whatever information you have on this stick is incomplete. Someone broke the information up from each stick, I’ll need to download each set and then comprise it together. Until you have all pieces, these won’t tell us much.”

            “Can you make out what type of information it is?”

            “Not accurately, no.”

            “Do you know where we could find the missing sticks?”

            “Not included on the disk.”

            “So until we have all the sticks you will be of zero help,” I infer.

            “Precisely.”

            “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Brent takes charge. “I’m going to take our train back to our old office and survey the damage, look for any manufacturing clues or something, anything that will narrow down our suspect pool. Dan and Rose, you two are going to pay another visit to Brute 1 and 2.”

            “At least I didn’t get the chance to change my clothes.”

            “Hmm?” Dan mumbles as we go up to the garage.

            “I would hate to ruin two outfits.”