WinsomeWillow – OFFLINE.

 

Jonah sat back down at his desk, water bottle in his hand as he looked back at that gray name in his friend list. And as it had for the past two weeks, that name mocked him for his hope that it would change.

It was Andrew's idea to get him into this game in the first place, back when he was talking about it during a break at work. Remembering the cheap pizza and the glow on Andrew's face as he talked about everything in the game aside from the outfits that made the Shields bounce whenever they made an attack, talking about the clan system and how people can play together to get better chances for rare characters. And now, two weeks later, almost at the end of the 'Fightful Spirits' event and not a single login bonus.

“Welcome back, Operator!” A cheery, soft voice echoed out over the speakers into that small apartment, the image of a woman in tight-fitting armor with a high-cut autumn leaf dress taking up a large chunk of his screen as he sipped from his bottle. His cursor drifting up to his profile picture, clicking on his clan list, checking out the last logged in users.

WinsomeWillow – OFFLINE – 2W

 

Jonah closed out the clan window, closed out of the game, closed out of his client, and leaned back in his chair to stare up at the ceiling. The hum of the computer fan, the sounds of traffic outside his window, the chill of the bottle creeping over his fingers as he clutched it tighter and stared upwards at the shadows dancing overhead, letting his thoughts drift. Unable to focus, and unable to move on from that one question that his spiral swirled around.

Where did you go?

 

 

The phone ringing pulls him out of his thoughts, blinking back to reality as he turns to pick up the receiver and give his eyes a break from the endless spreadsheets on his computer. “Jonah in Accounting.”

“Hey Jonah, it's Sally from HR.” That soft, folksy Oklahoma drawl called over the line. “Mr. Willis wanted to see you at 2. It's about Andrew Hughes.”

His eyes open wide, back straight. “Y, Yeah! Of course, have you heard anything?” Jonah asks, leaning over the phone, huddled close.

“I don't know about that,” She says, that tone not shifting a bit. “Just that Mr. Hughes had you as his emergency contact. 2 o'clock, at Mr. Willis' office.”

 

“Got it, thank you,” He says, hanging up and looking at his desk, head in his hand. Emergency contact. What could that even mean? Did he get in an accident? Had he ended caught up in a monster attack? Or was it something else entirely?

“It could be him just quitting. Maybe he got a job somewhere else. Maybe he just got sick for a bit.”

“Fuck.”

 

 

“Thank you for calling me, sir,” Jonah says, settling down into that high-backed chair across from the thin, older gentleman in charge of the firm.

“Of course. Mr. Hughes had you listed as his emergency contact. Were you two close?”

Jonah blinks, and looks over to Sally, who was standing off to the side. “Oh! Uh, no. He moved here after a pretty bad family dispute, and didn't have anyone else to put on the paperwork. We play games together after work, so it kinda made sense.”

Sally nods, that terse frown drawn tight over her round face. “We have it in the file, sir.”

“Thank you, Sally.” He says, nodding as he picks up the folder. “So, just to get it out of the way, Mr. Hughes is still alive and well.”

Jonah felt the tension melt from his shoulders. The breath in his lungs, held like a vise, finally let out in a small sigh. “That's good.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Willis says, eyebrow raised ever so slightly. “Though, according to what we heard from the Police, Mr. Hughes is currently requesting no contact, and turned in their resignation. We'd like you to clean out his desk today.”

And all the tension returns. Jonah's jaw tightens, his hands clench in his lap as he forces a nod. “Of course, sir.”

“We're also recommending you take a bit of PTO,” Mr Willis says. “You've got a lot of days saved up, and given everything that's been happening we thought it might be best for you to take some time to help work some things out. We'll let the Police know that you have his things.”

“Yes, sir,” Jonah says. “I'll make sure to close out the Sandberg account, then get that desk cleaned out.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Davis.”

 

 

The sun is setting outside the windows of the office as Jonah puts the last of Andrew's things in a paperboard box. A couple of prints from a convention, a figure he'd kept at the corner of his desk ('To keep an eye out for me'), some headphones, a few books, a subway map and a spare apartment key. It surprised Jonah just how little Andrew kept on his desk.

 

No Contact. He was still alive, but his phone was off. His socials were dead. His games untouched, and now he'd just popped in to announce he'd quit his job and disappear again.

It didn't feel like him at all.

The box was surprisingly light as he carried it out of the building, on his lap during the bus ride back home, up the stairs to his apartment, set down on the table in front of his TV.

WinsomeWillow – OFFLINE

Still nothing. And now Jonah had a week with nothing on his hands but to sit and play games.

 

“Ugh, fuck this.”

Jonah opened up the drawer on his table, digging through the small assortment of notes, pens, batteries and other random junk, until he pulls out a green backed notebook with a black band keeping it closed. He opens it up, flipping through the pages, until he finds an address in faded ink about a third of the way through.

Andrew's address.

No Contact. He didn't need to talk to him. He just could check in and see that he's doing alright. Check with the building supervisor and see if anything had happened in the neighborhood. Just make sure he's okay.

 

Make sure he's okay.

 

That's it.

 

ITEMS GAINED:

Andrew's Address

Andrew's Desk Items