Chapter Text
It was a peaceful summer day, perfect for outdoor picnics or a swim at the beach. The suburban roads were bustling with activities, though not overly boisterous.
A butterfly emerged from the shade and danced in the middle of the road, bathing in the warm air rising from the hot asphalt.
A black sedan approached from the corner, speeding at approximately forty miles per hour. The driver must not have seen the flying insect, for the brakes engaged suddenly, forcing the vehicle to a violent and screeching halt. The scratches of the tires ripped through the tranquility of the neighborhood and startled the delicate creature, who promptly disappeared into the woods. The horn of the next car behind roared furiously; it barely escaped total collision by stopping at a hair’s breadth.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL &(*% WAS THAT, ELS?!”
Inside the sedan, a male tiger lay flat on the dashboard, hugging the hard plastic as if holding on for dear life. His mouth agape, panting for oxygen, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets, staring straight at his partner in the driver’s seat.
“Danaus plexippus plexippus. The migratory monarch butterfly. Listed as an endangered species since 2022,” the female sheep calmly replied, looking out through the windshield.
“You know that’s not what I meant!” the tiger shouted, “I almost thought I was gonna die!”
“Don’t be such a kitten, Bill, you’re too dramatic,” said his partner.
“Says the one who drove like a lunatic!” he protested, “You braked in the middle of traffic from a hundred to zero in one split second, just for a stupid butterfly!”
“An endangered butterfly,” she replied, “Besides, all lives are precious.”
The sheep checked her mirrors before stepping on the pedal again. The car rumbled as it took them through a green, luscious forest.
The duo each wore a neatly ironed white coat that covered to their knees. Above their left chest, a name was embroidered.
On the tiger’s, Bill Sergeant.
On the sheep’s, Els Lindas.
Above the name was a logo composed of three overlapping blue octagons – Sigmund Corp, it read.
“We’re almost at the patient’s. You should really tidy yourself. It’s not good for the company’s image to have you this disheveled,” Els said.
“Oh, sure, blame it all on me,” Bill rolled his eyes, “Excuse me for trying to stay alive because someone clearly did not respect traffic safety.”
"Sure is a lovely neighborhood here," the sheep looked out the window and commented.
"Meh. Smells like the kind of place people settle when they've got too much money in their pockets," Bill sneered as they drove past the houses, each standing magnificently behind enormous gates like a private museum.
"What's the guy we're seeing now again?" he asked.
"Legoshi Lent. You should know it," Els slid him a disapproving glance.
"So, what's the deal with him?" the tiger stretched his back.
"The files are in the back," she gestured.
"Or you can just tell me. Much quicker that way," Bill said.
"I'd rather not be distracted while I'm driving."
"You're talking. Remember what just happened a few minutes ago?"
"And I avoided hitting a living creature, because I was paying attention."
"At the risk of us getting squashed from the back…" he huffed.
"Don't get me started on why you are Not allowed to drive," Els said with emphasis.
"And I'm still salty about that," Bill said, "Those stupid ol' bones at the higher-ups waaay overreacted over a little accident."
"...You drove the car over a fence and crashed it into a garage, the client's garage," the sheep sighed.
"Accidentally, that was," he retorted, "How was I supposed to know it would rain that winter, and the road was covered in black ice?"
The car paused at a stop sign before turning and climbing up a slope.
"Not the first time you did something stupid like that,” Els continued the topic, “At this pace, you might as well sign yourself a service contract with the company right now, just in case."
"Wow, excuse you," the tiger scowled.
"Just being considerate here," she remained nonchalant.
"I don't plan on dying any time soon, thank you very much."
"Why not? You might feel more at peace since you’ll have less regrets when dying early."
"Does this count as workplace bullying? Should I tell HR this is how you treat your co-workers?"
"How rude. I treat all my co-workers respectfully and professionally," she said, "...Though I do have a few exceptions."
"Pfft, whatever,” Bill folded his arms, “One day, you’ll regret not being nicer to the bestest technician in the entire company. When my genius gets promoted, you’ll realize how great of a loss you have suffered.”
“Hold on to your pants, Einstein,” Els said, “Nowadays, the technology is developed enough that they’re able to train new technicians and ship them out on an assembly line. Sorry to burst it, but you’re probably more dispensable than you think.”
“And you should record yourself to hear how much of a sociopath you sound like when in private,” Bill flicked his tongue in indignation, “What happened to ‘all lives are precious’, huh?”
Els did not respond and kept her focus on the wheel.
“What? Are you just gonna ignore…”
The car suddenly came to a complete stop.
Bill lunged forward, only to be choked back by the seat belt. The belt snapped taut, slamming his body to the cushion. Bill bounced dramatically, his ears rang, and he could swear there were tiny stars dancing in his vision.
“We’re here," Els stopped the engine.
/