[ WP ] `` So , you do know why we called you down here right ? ''

It was a typical Tuesday afternoon in the office. Felix Bowman was trying to put the finishing touches on a large project. His first large project since the incident that landed him in this position. He did n't like to think of the incident. He wanted that to stay locked away in his past. Buried deep in the trenches of his mind, but every now and again the memories would creep back up, and remind him of the things he had done. He took a slow sip of his now tepid coffee, and turned his mind back to the task at hand. 
 
 `` Ah, yes, yes. That should work.'' he murmured to himself. `` Yes, that will do.'' He continued, his mind now lost on the project. He continued murmuring and making notes. His coworkers were accustomed to this. Felix always murmurs when he's onto something. It's long periods of silence when you have to begin to worry about Felix. His coworkers know that. They know it's best to leave him alone during his quiet times. 
 
 He was deep in thought when he heard the familiar ping indicating he had a new email. He continued with his train of thought before it got lost to him forever, ignoring the little icon reminding him someone wanted something. Someone always wants something. No one ever just says'hello', or'join us for lunch' anymore. Those days are over. 
 
 With the train of thought now complete, he finally turns to his computer to read what the intrusive ping delivered. It's from downstairs. It's never the best news when it's from downstairs. They want to see him right away. It seems important. Of course it's important. It's downstairs. He stands up for the first time in hours, takes one last sip of his now completely cold coffee and heads for the elevator. 
 A sign written in blue ink and taped to the elevator doors indicates it's out of order. `` Typical'', he thinks as he heads to the stairs. 13 floors to go, three below ground level. The bottom. As low as you can get in this cement and steel tower. He used to wonder why the bosses wanted the bottom floor as offices, but since the incident, he is now well aware of why. He's sure they're going to expect a repeat performance, but he did n't think it would be necessary so soon. It's only been a few weeks since the first. Maybe this is just how it goes. 
 
 He reaches the receptionist desk outside the large boardroom doors, and offices of the bosses. He explains why he's there, and gives his name. She nods, and presses a button on her phone. `` Yes?'' a deep voice booms over the speaker. `` Mr. Bowman is here, sir.'' she replied. `` Put him in the board room, please. We're waiting on Mendez.'' She says nothing more, she just stares at him with her dark eyes. Her dark knowing eyes. 
 
 The boardroom is large, with one monumental table in the centre. At the far end of the room is a smaller table with bottles of water, some fresh fruit and small carafe of fresh coffee. He takes a seat near the middle of the table, facing the door. A clock on the wall behind him ticks. Louder, and louder each time. TICK. TICK. TICK. He's getting nervous. While he ca n't be certain, he's fairly sure he knows why he's here. TICK. TICK. TICK. `` Damn that clock!'' he thinks. He wants to smash it. Rip it from the wall, and smash it on the floor. To end its relentless ticking. 
 
 Now there are voices outside the door. Mendez must be here. He can see three shadows outside the frosted glass pane beside the door. They're exchanging pleasantries. `` How lovely'' he thinks, while still wishing he could smash that clock. The door opens, and Mendez, Palmer and Wright enter. Felix stands to greet the men, who are all tall with dark eyes, like the receptionist's. 
 `` Good afternoon gentlemen'' he says as they take their seats across the table from him. 
 `` Yes, good afternoon Mr. Bowman says Palmer, his deep voice oddly soothing. How are you coming along with your latest project?'' he continues. 
 
 `` Good, sir. I have some final fact-checking to do and then I have to finalize my report. It was a bit of a slow start, but I believe I've got something solid''. 
 `` Excellent, ca n't wait to have a look.'' says Mr. Wright, as Mendez nods in agreement and Palmer opens a large folder. 
 `` Now, to get down to the business of the day'' says Palmer, his voice much more stern now, less soothing. Serious. `` Do you know why we called you down here?'' he asks. His mouth is suddenly very dry, his throat feels like it's closing up. The room is suddenly very small. TICK. TICK. TICK. The clock is booming now. He clears his throat and responds with a quiet `` yes.'' `` Yes, sir, I know why I'm here. I know what you're going to ask me to do. I've done it before, and I know I can do it again.'' 
 The three men nod, and simply say `` good''. 
 
 They all stand to leave, and Palmer adds `` His name is Terry Andrews. All the details are in the file on the table. Due date is October 27th.'' 
 They leave. Felix sits back in his chair, and takes a deep breath. The clock is quiet now, it's still ticking, but it's muted. He reaches for the file across the table, and opens it. Terry Andrews stares back at him. It's a black and white photo, but the details are there. He glances at the file, and finally reads the words he was dreading. 
 
 Terry Andrews, 7th birthday party. Theme: Monster-truck driving zombie pirate dinosaurs 
 
 `` You get drunk at one Christmas party, come up with the worst idea ever, and it takes off'' He says to himself as he gathers the file and walks out the door. 
 

