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INTRODUCTION !

000 | THE START .

You stepped through the doors of the pizzaplex and was immediately met with a blast of warmth. Its walls were lined with bright murals, and in each corner there were pinball machines that glowed like beacons in the light fixtures overhead.

There was an atmosphere here that felt inviting, warm, almost magical even; one could almost forget they weren't actually on vacation somewhere far away — even if only for just a moment or two.

You stand in the doorway, eyes scanning unfamiliar surroundings.

The chatter of your colleagues fills your ears like distant thunder while you take a deep breath of the sterile office air. Your heart beats faster as you ease into the room, an inexorable sensation drawing upon you with each step — you were a little nervous though too.

As you approach the pizzaplex, you hear raised voices coming from one of its many rooms. Two men are in a heated argument — both red-faced and shouting at each other.

You recognize them as regular visitors to the complex: one is an older gentleman who always has something to say; the other is a younger man who is apparently tired of his bullshit.

Their faces become more animated as their words become louder; soon enough they're shouting accusations and jabbing fingers between each other's chests in punctuation of their points.

The two men were on the brink of a violent altercation. Arms outstretched and fists bunched, they seemed almost eerily still in the pre-fight tension as if time had suddenly stopped.

Then, like a mirage appearing from nowhere, a third figure materialised between them.

He seemed to be around your age, with the slender frame of a runner and just under six feet tall. his hair was midnight black streaked with streaks of grey. His skin had that special glow, unblemished and radiating light like polished marble; it made him appear almost spectral in his thin waisted jeans and white socks tucked into scruffy sneakers – All Black Converse High-Tops for an extra dose of effortless cool. (Ayeee)

his skin the color of skimmed milk. Freckles were scattered lightly across his nose and cheeks as if someone had flicked them on with a paintbrush. His lips were full and he smiled easily when seen in public by people or co-workers who knew him.

You take a closer look at the badge on his chest. The name reads Milo, and you smile inside as if learning something special about him.

"Okay. is this a bad time? let's just calm down. there shouldn't be any arguing. let's be respectful towards the children." Milo took a deep breath and stepped in, trying not to look angry.

he calmly addressed the two visitors, introducing himself and asking if he had caught them at a bad time.

he offered his apologies for the misunderstanding that seemed to have occurred between them.

expressing regret that it had resulted in their being so upset with one another. his voice was low but clear as he spoke, speaking slowly enough for each word to carry its own weight and be understood yet quick enough not to drag on too long or become irritatingly pedantic.

You seemed confused behind the whole situation, but you could see why the younger man was a little pissed off.

Milo sighs, "alright. since this is whole situation is over with go enjoy yourselves." he says through clenched teeth.

Milo approached you, his gait was purposeful as he walked towards you. he towered over your nearly small frame but his presence carried no menace or danger — only sternness, acceptance, and curiosity.

You felt engulfed in an atmosphere of comfort as Milo finally reached out to shake your hand warmly; sending tingles all down your spine with just one touch from him. "Hey. you must be the new janitor? or are you gonna be working behind the counter with me?" he asks.

Milo's voice was deep and rich like the rumble of a low drum. His words vibrated through one's body like a slowly-rolling wave, deepening. the cadence of his speech was hypnotic; each word seemed to be heard separately in perfect clarity.

"Behind the counter. don't you work in the daycare too?" You ask while turning to face him more.

Milo tucks some hair behind his ear while his face was just blank. "Right. I do. come here." he voice was awfully calm though too.

Milo led the way inside, the small office almost seeming to hug the both of you. He gestured for you to take a seat in one of the hard-backed chairs and went over to fetch his clipboard. He returned quickly and passed it over with an ink pen, flashing you a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Fill this out," he said quietly before turning away again, closing off any further conversation as he busied himself elsewhere in the room.

"Okay- it's done." You finish the form, pushing the pen in its holder and sliding it across the desk between you. Milo notices your action before you can look up at him. His eyes meet yours, he nods his head slightly without a smile on his face then moves to pick up the paper from between you two.

He flips through it with one glance and then stuffs into an accordion folder atop a small stack next to where he's sitting. "Okay. that's good..now we just gotta get you situated." Milo says.

You hear Milo's voice. "You can start working any time you're ready," he says. His tone is monotone and a little less inviting.

You glanced up to see another co-worker, shouting from across the room. "Milo! Come on? what the hell are you doing?! People are waiting and there's a long ass line of kids!" her voice was gruff and impatient.

"Give me a minute, okay?" Milo replied tiredly, "No! hurry up!" the woman shouts again.

"How about this, you can start today." Milo says while handing you a uniform. "Really?" You say in reply while your eyes were wide in surprise.

"Mhm." Milo hums to you, "also uhm— just make sure the animatronics function right. we can't have any malfunctions. scott doesn't really enjoy us just working on one thing. but other than that, you're hired."

Milo extends his hand for you to shake it, you could notice the small sliver ring around his finger. "T-Thank you." you reply while shaking his hand.

END OF INTRODUCTION