I recalled hurriedly sipping at a stale coffee when I got back to my office. Its flavor had soured and its heat depleted since my mid-noon meeting. Turbid black grains grit against my fangs and saturated my tongue with acrid passive aggression. The arms of my wall clock aligned in a spear that lunged across its malaise of a mid-autumn Thursday to mark out 5:55pm. By now the casual nine-to-fiver had long since fled. Jockeying for their slot in the rush-hour traffic jam on the freeway. Hurrying to stove warmed dinners taken in the pallid glitter of television screens. The ghosts of productivity left in their wake were stirred only by the solemn of squeaky wheeled carts as the janitorial staff made their nomadic journey from waste bin to waste bin.

But of course I was still around. I had all the intent in the world to be. After all it’s not every day I get a curious request like the sort that decorated my inbox this morning. Follow up to a phone call. I’d even assigned it a little right-click borne star, like a pendant of importance. An innocuous missive was a request for a prep room and 4 liters of absolute ethanol from none other than my collaborator, Dr. Hayes shadow – Oscar. Quiet on conference calls and stiff lipped on business – the last time I’d seen him had been toting around an old fashioned black leather doctorial satchel and musing over the quality of the samples my resident bleeding heart hare had generated for him. Amber eyes surmised the status of our little operation and he’d wordlessly scribbled his recommendations on a notepad before departing.

The tempo of high heels clicking along the desolate tile of the facility’s corridors betrayed my curiosity but the departure from the day to day warranted investigation. Lab reports and water cooler retorts. White papers and additions to ever expansive spreadsheets. Incremental strides marked with occasional errors and slips in a frustrating step forward, two steps back sort of dance that played out on the corporate ball-room floor. I was ready for a change of tune.

Oscar had set up by the time I came upon the prep room. A bucket of ice sweated nervously alongside a partially depleted brown glass jug. The astringent aroma of ethanol tickled across my nose and made my snout wrinkle on reflex. Fluorescent lighting played upon an array of precision tools, glittering edges all arranged with intimidating, casual formality. A sterilized matt decorated with a constellation of pins and needles stood in stark contrast to an ornate bottle of liquor. Orange amber, like liquid fire, it invaded the sterilized precision of the scene with its partners in crime, a duo of empty shot glasses. Sat there at the desk, tangential to it all, reclining in a misappropriated office chair, sky blue dress shirt and black slack adorned legs crossed, was the otter. White gloves presiding over a manila envelope he finished whatever line he was on before glancing up at my intrusion with a cordial, “Hello, Doctor,”

“Interesting reagent choice,” I mused, tilting my head at the bottle of scotch, which made Oscar chuckle.

“I figure if they’re getting a drink, I may as well have one myself,”

A perked eyebrow and elongated pause of quiet urged him on as he leaned over to a nearby beaker full of ice and ethanol. Melting ice bled its tears into the solution, where shifts in refractive index traced like fingers into the translucent sea below. Oscar held the back of his finger against its perspiring surface it before pulling it away. Snapping up a pair of tongs from the desk, he leaned forward to a cage just out of sight and snatched up a microfauna in its cold teeth. The spotted hyena figure squirmed and writhed before relaxing in a defeated slump, before Oscar swiveled around and dropped it with a practiced flick –plunk-, bringing with it a plume of alcoholic vapor before Oscar clamped a metal lid in place with a ting-tong of finality.

The shock of exposure gripped that little figure. Those tongs were a desert compared to the heat destitute liquid into which it had been thrust. Cryogenic waves swallowing up tensing thighs, that whole frame bent under the weight of sudden cold – choking out breath and then sucking in the artic air before coughing it all out in a sputtered heave. Paws and claws gripped in a frenzy at the clustered cubes; but treacherous body heat melded away what grasp they managed to mount. Every motion serving only to jostle about the scarce land, cruelly permitting them to sink faster. They squeaked in wet terror as the ice crackled and pushed away, before sinking under. An explosion of bubbled breath unwisely oozed from those jaws as they tried to fight back to a surface. The whole struggle was veiled under a mat of churned bubbles and cracked ice, until it stilled to jaunt shakes and twitches.

“Ethanol’s a cheap way to sterilize fur and scales without damage. I understand that was an issue before,” Oscar elaborated to my quiet audience. “Numbs ‘em too, if they don’t drown first – which is good ‘cos the last thing you want is a wild animal thrashing your mitts when you’re juggling scalpels. Maybe s’ why they serve wine at parties?”

“Ha,” I barked in half earnest. The sample treatment interesting I dedicated it to memory, although his mention brought to thought a curious musing. The collaboration between Hayes and I had accelerated in the wake of my visit to Pennsylvania. He’d offered to push things forward if I could keep the pace and thus far things seemed that way. But venture as I did, glass in hand, between the cocktail bar and dining table, I never did see Oscar there.

“Is that why you weren’t at William’s dinner? You don’t seem terribly shy of the bottle,”

“He had me employed elsewhere at the time. Besides. I imagine he wanted the guest of honor to feel welcome,”

“Oh?” I wasn’t aware of a particular speaker. Perhaps I’d arrived too late and missed out on someone? Oscar seemed to read my confusion before gesturing at me which made me laugh entirely honestly. “Me? I think you’re mistaken. I haven’t gotten so many glares since my group meetings are Carnegie.”

“Yeah but, I imagine that was the point. Surround you in a sea of wool. Chase you around with the stampede. He’s good at that, you know. Getting under people’s skin,”

I was quiet for a moment. A serpent of cold sweat wormed down my spine and I felt a note of commonality with the microfauna in the beaker.

“Did he walk around the place, talking up your opportunities? Maybe he took you aside and made you an offer you couldn’t resist?” He rattled off with disconcerting precision. “That’s what he did when I was there my first time too,”

“Look Oscar, I’m not trying to replace you, if that’s what you think this is about,” I said a bit more defensively than I intended to, which made him scoff,

“That I ain’t worried about. I think the good doctor’s gonna wanna get plenty more use out of me. Rather its what he’ll want out of you that worries me. You may be a spook, doc, but you and your staff are nice folks.”

Oscar broke from the conversation to reach back into the cage, acquiring another specimen. There was a random selection of them in the cage – selected only by their healthiness and age. None the less, the eerie resemblance of the lutrae microfauna’s brown hide gave Oscar a moments hesitation before he gently dropped the specimen into the beaker. It slipped down and balanced atop the ice cubes – leaping a few times to try and reach the impossible top of the container, before sliding down and glaring hatefully at us both.

“Dr. Hayes and I came to an agreement about how to approach this project. I don’t know what you are implying he means to acquire beyond that, but I assure you, I can handle myself. I didn’t get to where I am now without fending off an unsavory character or two.” I replied an air of more elegance, although judging by Oscars expression I suspected it came across as arrogance.

“Well, if that’s the course you wanna take,” Oscar exhaled a sigh, arcing his back and grasping that bottle of scotch. Pulling it near he poured a duet and offered me one. I declined a moment before deciding to take it. The malt of it fled across my nostrils with an earthy, smooth tone and I could use something to absolve the sour taste of stale coffee.

“Congratulations on your business acquisitions and welcome to the team” Oscar glanced back to the microfauna shuddering atop the glacial float of ice. Its shivering seething glare stabbed across the expanse through an impenetrable wall fogged over with fleeing warmth. Icy liquid clamoring up its ankles and body riveted still with locked muscles, it let its arms hang against the glass. Too cold to bother lowering them. Frozen in the facade of a lunge for escape. Oscar held it gaze quietly before lifting his glass,

“Cheers,”


----

Chapter 1: Acqusitions
One of my favorite pieces by none other than  darkomi : You may find their submission here

Thank you as well to  holdenwrite &  bjkgreywolf for volunteering their characters as micros.

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