Alas, Sam, no angst here for you. ^_~ This oneshot was also one of those scenes where I kept writing in search of its direction or goal…and I’m still not sure it had any. :-P
Downtown Starling City wasn’t a bad place. But like many metropolitan city centers, the rat race bustle of the day all but disappeared at night, and in the hours circling midnight, the tall office buildings seemed to loom, the empty streets crisscrossed like a daunting maze, and the chilled air slipped past even the thickest cardigans.
Or at least, Felicity’s cardigan.
Which wasn’t that thick, she admitted, but as she stood on the sidewalk next to the broken down bus, she wasn’t quite in the mood to take any responsibility for her bad night, nope.
It had started with an emergency call into Kord Industries over a server crashing, which turned out to be oops, no, it’s not a single server, but the whole network in Lab 10-B. And was she aware, asked the snooty manager who had been her point of contact for the company, that they were planning to launch the new protocol in the morning? Which meant this needed to be fixed tonight?
Said snooty manager hadn’t even shown up, only conveying insistence and panic over constant (and disruptive) telephone calls.
By the time she had fixed things, even the scathing incident report she sent to said snooty manager’s boss didn’t make her feel better.
(Two weeks ago, she had advised on what needed to be done to avoid this exact problem. None of it was implemented despite her repeated queries over its status and offers to come in and ensure it was done.)
(She still wasn’t sure if she should have deleted the “You have failed this project.” line in her comments.)
It was close to midnight when she finally headed to her car, simply exhausted. It turned out her car was just as exhausted: it wouldn’t start.
It was past midnight by the time she got on the last metropolitan bus out of the city, its sole passenger.
And it took no more than fifteen minutes for that vehicle’s engine to stutter and die on some lonesome street.
The bus driver had only shrugged when she’d asked if someone would come by to fix the bus — or, you know, provide some other means of transport?
It really, really wasn’t a good night.
She went through her options and with a sigh, made the call on her phone.
Digg picked up on the second ring. “Felicity?”