Chapter Text
“We do not live in a world of heroes and villains, and if we believe we do, we should really consider the possibility that we haven’t thought about things properly.” - Natalie Haynes, Pandora’s Jar
*
Emma took a deep breath. She felt over and underdressed in an instant - Nakatomi, for thirteen years running, invited someone from Fox Performing Arts Center to attend the corporation's Christmas party, and she had a feeling that each year such candidate stood out like a sore thumb. Usually it was Gillian, artistic admin. But having been promoted from intern to said artistic admin's assistant running all entrance level tasks for the admin department, this was another bone to up-and-coming dog. Although, at the same time, she was sure none of her colleagues wanted to spend Christmas Eve schmoozing with yuppies, and since she was their errand girl she fit the bill whether she wanted to or not.
'And remember, we need a good photo of the donation. Big smile.' That was the instruction and she felt sick at the thought in her black, hip-hugging dress. No, it wasn't the outfit that was giving her trouble - little black dress, matching heels, and a string of faux pearls around her neck. She fit the bill.
Being in photos was another matter. Important photos and press statements, for a behind the scenes country mouse who wanted nothing more to be prepping advertising and tickets for the Christmas season's symphony orchestra concert? Hell on earth. And if that wasn't enough, after she gave the acceptance speech there was a man whose eyes were swimming with some hard drug, stinking of narcissism, who was talking her up and within a breath of feeling her up. The theatre and its community of women and gay men had hardly prepped her for the occasion. It had been too long since she'd had to schmooze her way out of such situations, or get paid to put up with them. But she got through it, mainly because the speech had been written by a member on the theatre's board of directors. It leaned heavily on statements that thanked the company for their generous support through the years, acknowledging the regional CEO, one Joseph Takagi. Gillian had told her Nakatomi's LA base was new to the scene - in the past, the Japanese corporation had leased another building, merely a floor of office cubicles. Now they had their own skyscraper. "So keep 'em sweet. Seriously. Usually the a member of the board with a hand in fundraising would go, but it's... well, Christmas Eve, everyone wants to be with their families. I recommended you - you should probably shadow one of the board execs, one of these days, and this is a good a start as any."
Easier said than done. The man before her didn't disguise his glance down her small frame.
"Hey baby, you come here to find some guys in suits? Say the word and we can make this party private."
If it weren't for the adrenaline after successfully (she hoped) delivering the acceptance speech she would have gagged. Or maybe she was just bored, sick of knowing no one at this party. So she followed the guy to a nearby office, gazing out the window as he did a line on the desk. She wondered if this was part of the job for her. Cater to wild finance guys, get a gold star.
"Don't look so surprised, babe."
Mistaking disgust for surprise - strike one. "Oh, I don't judge." Lie one. He motioned for her to come to the window.
"What a view, eh kid?"
LA in the sunset, absolutely golden, not a hint of winter about it. Still, it was impressive, and she let him kiss her, though it was hardly satisfying. She pulled away when the door opened.
Two men. How awkward. She leapt away, feigning nonchalance. Ellis did the same.
"Holly's office has some view, huh?" he offered.
The younger man - out of place - smirked. "Which one, the window or the table?"
"Both - only one was impressive," Emma retorted, seething. It wasn't even the sleaze's own office? Time to make a getaway. "Mister Takagi, thank you again."
The CEO smiled, as amused by the situation as the man beside him. "A pleasure, Miss Farrell. She's from the Fox Performing Arts Centre - every year we make a donation. Important to keep the arts alive, don't you think, Mister McClane?"
The guy shrugged, eyes still on Ellis, darting to the table. "You missed a spot."
She wanted to be sick. It dawned that in all likelihood, Ellis had brought her here to make the woman who owned this office jealous.
"Well, gentlemen, thanks for the view but I think I'll be off."
Burning with embarrassment she stormed outside. On the stairs she almost collided with a curly haired woman who took one look at Emma's face and grimaced.
"Liked your speech, kid... I saw you coming this way with Ellis. Looks like your taste kicked in at the last minute."
"If your name is Holly I believe it was your office he took me to."
Holly rolled her eyes. "Asshole. God, I'm glad I didn't walk in on that. He must have planned it."
"I wish it was you - Takagi and someone called McClane did."
"Ah. My husband, John. Ellis needs a psychward but in my experience it's those kind of guys who get the accolades around here. Holly Gennaro." They shook hands. "I gotta go check on him - not Ellis, my husband. They're two kinds of men who could tear each other to pieces if Takagi wasn't babysitting. I'll catch you at the bar in fifteen? We can damn 'em to hell."
"It's a date, but I need to get some air after that."
She just about kept her balance on the stairs, rushing to the nearest elevator. She ignored the security guard at the desk, her heels clacking loudly as she stared out into the dark. If she stepped out now, she could just disappear. She didn't need to stay any longer. It had just been the formality, was all.
Holly though, she seemed like she was fun to drink with. She fumbled for her handbag, grabbed her lipstick and her pocket mirror, began to reapply with shaking hands. If she left now she was sure she'd be crying in her apartment alone not thirty minutes later.
She saw movement in the window, shadows of men entering the lobby, heard them talking about a game. One of them started making his way to the door, like he'd forgotten something outside. She wiped her eyes.
Then the gun went off. Just one. She dropped her hand mirror, spinning around only to be caught by the blonde man footsteps away from her, holding a gun point blank to her head.
"Karl. Play nice, now."
A man in a grey coat, immediately recognisable as the ring leader motioned for her to come towards the group. Karl prodded her onwards with the gun.
The security guard was dead. One of the men kicked him from the chair, hid the body under the desk. Another sat at the desk, in uniform. There was only one gun on her now - clearly she was no threat, but the man in the suit had a predatory stare, and as yet she didn't know if he'd marked her as dead meat.
"I-I don't work here. Whatever you want, I'm useless to you."
The two men laughed. Their leader smirked. The man with the gun lowered it only to slam the side of her head. World spinning, she could only gasp for air as he picked her up from the floor, arms behind her back, eyes streaming a few stunned tears.
So much for perfect makeup.