Meet the Cape

The Man almost had a panic attack when he saw her across the hall.


The day had previously been surprisingly rewarding. He woke up in the morning, blinded by the sunshine coming through the vast window of his dutch loft. He spread his legs in the bed and realized he was alone. "Honey?", he said, and his voice broke from an unquenched thirst. He called again, this time in a louder voice, but soon realized that he didn't really care: she was probably long gone, at work, or somewhere.

He sat on the bed and reached for the remote, carefully placed on the table by the pillow. As he pressed a button, it was like if the whole flat was coming to life. Orchestral music raised above his head, red lights turned on in the corridor, and a bath was being set up for him in the bathroom. He stood up and went straight to the kitchen, where a colorful fruit juice had just finished being made. A nearby TV decided to turn itself on and broadcast the latest news. Something about whales, and environmentalists taking over a fishing boat. The Man barely listened: he already knew all about that, and he would anyway learn a lot more during his daily morning brief. A brief he was really looking forward to.

The bath was a delight. It was hot enough, but not too hot, and a skincare substance had been added to the water. He was now perfectly relaxed. "This day is getting better and better", he grinned.
In front of the corridor's mirror, he dressed up, carefully putting every single inch of his suit in place. His suit was everything. It was his status, his power, the ideals for which he stood. It was the suit that made him - and his colleagues - different from the rest of the world. He looked at his image in the mirror, and found it was as close to perfection as it could be. He smiled at himself, but not with a childish, happy smile. It was a scary, proud grin that deformed his face in a frightening way. "I deserve my happiness", he thought, and he let the grin disappear.

Adress:The day was indeed getting better. Walking through Rembrandtpark, he heard birds singing under the warming spring sun. He saw them flying back and forth, building nests and shelters. Finally arrived at the facilities at Slotevaart, he looked up to the sky, almost like begging for a blessing. There were no clouds. He was seizing the day.

Then, he got inside the building.

The Man almost had a panic attack when he saw her across the hall. At first glance, her beauty was amazing, but something with her was wrong. His brain processed the information received from his eyes, and perfectly matched her image with her identity. He knew her, oh dear god, he knew her, and he wished he didn't. As the woman was screaming, he panicked. Everybody in the lobby was looking at her. Guards shared a glance, wondering if they needed to intervene. The Man's throat suddenly became as dry as the new Amazonian desert. He was paralyzed by fear.

The woman screamed something about "revenge", and decided to head to the main exit. The guards - and the Man - sighed with relief: problem solved, by itself. The Man quickly detoured to the front desk.

"What the fuck was she doing here?", he asked to the receptionist.
The latter looked concerned.
"I... I don't know", he started. "But Jenkins does."
"Jenkins?", he asked, having no idea of who he was talking about.
"Er, over there."

The Man looked where the receptionist was pointing, only to discover a sleepy guard. Alcohol was a common problem among the guards, and he knew it. Apparently, that one had trouble hiding the issue. The Man didn't care. He didn't want to think about it. Seize the day. He turned back to the man at the front desk and negligently threw "Whatever".

As the elevator reached the penthouse, his happiness flew back. His personal secretary, sitting at her desk, welcomed him with a warm smile. He walked straight into his office and sat on his very expansive sustainable chair. The secretary came, waiting for him to tell something. He waited for a while, pretending to be reading paperwork on the desk, and eventually decided to say: "So... What about you brief me now?"

She started to relate how the team had boarded from the Zodiac. He smiled when she announced that the whole crew of the fishing boat had immediately surrendered. Then, a big sign was set up on the deck, so that every journalist could have a chance at filming it from the helicopters.

"The operation is a success. We are featured in almost every media outlet in western Europe. Asian and American newspapers are starting to get on the story too", she proudly claimed. 
He was satisfied. "Well, it turns out my wife lost her bet, after all!" He stopped, and stared at her in the eyes. He grinned.
She blinked and smiled in return. "Yes. And you owe me one", she whispered.

She stepped towards the door and closed it. Turning back, she came close to him, very close. They shared a stare. As he started to undress, a piece of his suit fell onto his feet. It was his status, his power, the ideals for which he stood. It was what made him - and his colleagues - different from the rest of the world. 
A sharp, thick, pure red cape.


PS: in other words, we resume working on Impulse!