The Warehouse

Chapter 2: Once in a lifetime

It hasn't always been like that. Surviving, from squat to squat, country to country, always looking behind my back...
All I'll say about myself is this: I was a proletarian londoner's daughter. A normal, classic one. I was just a little bit angrier maybe. And better with computers.

I shiver once oustside the tube. In front of me, a giant square, surrounded by tall builgings of glass and steel. Anyone knowing the old me would refuse to even imagine me being here. Except for a terrorist attack, maybe. Wich makes it the best hiding place for me. Well, as long as I can make them believe I'm one of them. Them rich people.
I readjust my red shirt's collar. I usually don't button them all to the top. But what's worse is the pair of heels I stole. Who is the bloody son of a dead dog that invented that?
Anyway, I walk through the mass of white collars to a big door. The number 42 is painted in gold on the perfectly transluscent glass. When I get in, I concentrate more than ever before in my life. The sound of my heels echoes against the vast marble floor and walls. And I become more and more Alexandra Mourn. I'm a young computer engineer and freshly graduated from Cambridge. I wish to start a new life and carreer in France because I love to challenge myself and all the corporate mumbo jumbo...
I hate this! But Ricochet is right. A function flat, a fricking high salary, that offer is the perfect oppotunity. A once in a lifetime chance to disappear into the enemy's midst. I just need to lock my own soul in my basement. Just long enough to get back to normal. If it still exists.

The hall is empty, except for the receptionist behin her desk and her two fake plants.

"Mademoiselle bonjour!" she says.
I show her my passport without answering. Capitalists don't say "hello" to the little people. Otherwise, they'll burn and go back to the hellpit they came from.

"How may I help you?" she asks with a fake bright smile and a really good english accent.
"Clockwork Incorporated are waiting for me. I am here for a job interview."

She pushes a small switch under her desk and tells me to go up to the 22nd floor, lift number one, bureau B. 221B, easy to remember. I do my best not to smile and go up to the most important meeting of my life.