Work Text:
Title: Pissing Up A Rope
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own The Magnificent Seven or Without A Trace.
Characters: Martin
Words: 956
Fandom: The Magnificent Seven/Without A Trace
Pairing: None
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Angst.
Summary: The road to madness is long and straight.
Author's Note: Autumn - 1999
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Martin leaned forward at his desk to rest his chin on his hand. After hours of reading, the words started to blur. Two weeks at this job and he was starting to wonder if he would soon need glasses. That was definitely not a good sign.
At first, he had considered this to be the ideal choice for him. He was far enough away that his father's influence was hardly felt. The work had promised to be interesting and cutting edge. What involving computers wasn't?
Accounting and Tax Fraud, that's what wasn't interesting.
Greedy individuals who used their knowledge of computers and laws to funnel away money from their clients were a serious problem. There were so many loop holes and options available to them, that it made his job that much harder. Yet, he was able to track them down. That wasn't the problem.
It was the monotony of his job that got to him. He spent ten hours a day in a five by five cubicle with a computer and a printer. His was only one of twenty in this room.
There were twenty people who did the same thing he did every day. Not a single one of them had a tan. He wasn't sure, but he believed his skin was rapidly joining theirs. And worse, they had no social skills what-so-ever. Now, he was used to long hours of isolation, but back then he had someone who came home to him.
He wasn't one of these nerds and it was killing him. They actually thought DOS jokes were funny! Who laughed at DOS jokes that didn't make fun of how old the coding was? There were some seriously disturbed individuals working at the White Collar Criminal Division of the FBI.
After catching himself drifting off for the tenth time in as many minutes, Martin pushed back from the computer. He quickly signed off his system. Satisfied his terminal was no longer in use, he stood up and walked out of the cubicle.
The lights were low enough to hurt the prairie dogs' eyes, but bright enough to see where he was going. As he passed, he noticed that none of the others had been having similar reactions. This made him scowl. Either they had adapted, or they were born for this kind of work.
Well, not him! He was Martin Fitzgerald. He was born to be a field agent! He breathed gun fire and slept sting operations! Life was supposed to be filled with investigative moments. Unfortunately for him, he was stuck behind a computer.
And why, someone may ask?
Because he had been a big friggen nerd and chosen to excelle in computer courses in college. Suddenly depressed, Martin's pace slowed. He was only going to the break room to get coffee anyways, so it didn't matter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Probably from sheer boredom, the day decided to off itself and brought his shift to an end. None too soon in his opinion. There were far better things he could be doing with his time like watching paint dry.
After logging off his terminal, he pushed back from the computer. There was nothing left to hold him in the cubicle and he was tired of being trapped. Walking out of the cubicle farm was a chore in and of itself because all he wanted to do was run.
As he headed for the elevator, he could hear the prairie dogs start up. These people actually liked what they were doing. Martin knew he would never be one of them, even if he wanted to.
By the time the elevator arrived, he was almost ready to try the stairs. It was twenty floors, but heck, he had the energy to spare.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There were four cars in the lot. Two were red. One was black. The last one was a beige-yellow color. None of them were older than two years.
His can of soup still warm to the touch, Martin used a potholder to handle it. He didn't care how he looked as he watched stared out over the world. The window had no curtains, but it wasn't like he had any reason to cover it. A month in the new place and he still had no furniture that hadn't come with the place.
Music blasted from the radio on the counter behind him. It was the one thing he had that might be worth stealing. That would never happen, though. He kept it locked in his trunk of his car during the day.
Seattle was depressing. All it had done since he arrived was rain. Between the showers, the clouds came rolling in and promised more rain. He wasn't sure the sun even existed any more. For all he knew, there could be a giant lamp above the clouds suspended by helicopters to make it day.
Of course, he could also be a little drunk.
As he watched, a squirrel ran across the parking lot. It was after the nuts he had left down there yesterday morning. May be he would introduce it to beer nuts next. There were plenty of places to get them in Seattle. After all, that was all people had to do in the city, drink and eat beer nuts.
Well, he was sure there were other things to do, but nothing that interested him. May be he would visit the birth place of... His can of soup was empty. Martin shook it to make sure.
Yep. Empty.
Sighing, he wandered over to his trash can and threw it away. Finished, he picked up a bottle of pills off the counter. He popped two of them and swallowed them dry. Going to bed early, he guessed.
THE END................................