Spun Out of Control

Chapter 2: Sticky Situations

"NO CAP!" Gavin shrieked.

"Bro, lower your voice!" Jax hissed, throwing his hands up in absolute panic, his wheels squeaking as he slid his chair closer. "You're going to summon Rose like a level-hundred dungeon boss! We cannot handle that kind of aggro right now!"

"I can't lower my voice, Jax! Look at this!" Gavin grunted, pulling his right arm upward with everything he had.

The heavy mahogany desk creaked loudly, tilting to the side as the left metal legs lifted completely off the carpet.

"Oh, rip," Jax whispered, his eyes widening. "You’re literally lifting the company budget right now. Put it down, bro! If you break that, Rose will make us pay for it, and I am currently saving up for a new GPU."

"I can't put it down because I can't let go!" Gavin gasped, his shoulder muscles straining. "I am literally one with the corporate hierarchy now. This desk and I are married. We are legally bound in the eyes of the state."

"Okay, let me cook," Jax said, scrambling frantically through his desk drawers, throwing aside old receipts and half-eaten protein bars. "We need a tool. A wedge. Something to break the seal. Here—take this ruler."

"A plastic ruler?" Gavin eyed the translucent blue strip of plastic Jax was thrusting at him. "Are you serious right now? This is a solid mahogany desk. It’s going to snap the ruler like a twig."

"Just slide it under your palm, bro! Do it before she comes back to check on the report! You have to speedrun this!"

Gavin took a deep breath, sweat dripping down his temple. He gripped the plastic ruler with his left hand, which still had three mechanical keycaps stuck to his fingers like high-tech warts.

"If I lose my skin here, Jax, you're writing my eulogy," Gavin whimpered. "Make sure you tell everyone I died a hero. And tell Rose I... actually, don't tell her anything. She'd probably just call my death an OSHA violation and replace me by Monday."

"Bro, the level of down-bad you are exhibiting while literally fused to office furniture is actually legendary," Jax sighed. "Just pry it!"

Gavin gingerly wedged the thin plastic edge of the ruler beneath the heel of his right hand. The skin resisted, stretching like warm saltwater taffy against the polished wood grain.

"Ow, ow, ow! That is not a vibe, Jax! It's pulling my actual epidermis! I’m going to need skin grafts, fr!" Gavin yelled in a harsh whisper.

"Stop being a baby! Push it through! Pain is temporary, but getting fired by Rose is forever!"

"I am trying! It feels like... wait. It's shifting!"

With a loud, wet, rubbery pop, Gavin’s palm suddenly released its grip. The plastic ruler shot out of his hand, flying across the room and clattering against the wall. The sudden release of tension sent Gavin tumbling backward. His rolling mesh chair spun wildly before slamming hard into the metal filing cabinet.

"You good, bro?" Jax asked, peering over his monitor with wide eyes. "Did you survive the quick-time event?"

"I'm alive," Gavin groaned, rubbing his raw, tingling palm. He stared down at his skin, his eyes widening. "But... uh, Jax? My palm is literally glowing. Look at this."

In the shadow of the desk, his hand emitted a faint, pulsing bioluminescent blue light.

"Bruh," Jax whispered, leaning in. "You look like a glow-in-the-dark sticker. That is highkey terrifying."

"I need to wash this off," Gavin said, pushing himself up from the floor. "Like, right now. Before it spreads to my face and I start looking like an avatar."

"Go, go! Speedrun to the restroom. Use that industrial soap. The one that smells like pine trees and heavy-duty chemicals. If that doesn't work, we might have to amputate."

"Amputate? You're a terrible support class, Jax," Gavin muttered, backing out of the cubicle while keeping his hands raised awkwardly in the air. "Keep watch. If Rose comes back, tell her I'm... negotiating with the server gods."

"Bet. Go! I’ll cover for you!"

Gavin slipped out of the IT department, keeping his hands hovering awkwardly in front of him like a classic B-movie zombie. He darted down the carpeted hallway, his eyes scanning the corridor for any sign of Rose's impeccably tailored blazers. Every step felt incredibly tense, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"Just wash it off. Easy game," Gavin muttered to himself, stopping in front of the heavy, dark-paneled executive restroom door. "Just a weird spider bite. I'm totally normal. I'm just a regular guy who can lift desks with one hand."

He reached out with his right hand, wrapping his fingers around the massive, solid brass lever handle. He took a breath, intending to pull it open gently.

SNAP.

A loud, metallic crack echoed through the quiet corridor.

Gavin blinked, staring down at his hand.

The heavy brass handle was no longer attached to the door. It was resting entirely in his palm, the sheared metal screws protruding from the base like broken teeth.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Gavin whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't even pull hard! I literally barely flexed!"

He stared at the blank, hollow hole in the door where the handle used to be. The door itself remained firmly shut, completely impassable.

"This is an L. A massive, monumental L," Gavin mumbled, panic cascading through him. "How do I even explain this to facilities? 'Sorry, guys, I accidentally became a superhero because of a rave spider'?"

The sharp, rhythmic clack-clack-clack of designer heels suddenly echoed from the intersecting corridor.

Gavin’s stomach dropped. "Oh, no. No, no, no."

Rose turned the corner, holding a manila folder against her chest. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes locked onto him instantly, sparkling with a mixture of curiosity and deep, lingering suspicion. Her lips, painted a soft, elegant rose-red, parted slightly.

"Gavin?" Rose asked, her smooth, intoxicating voice carrying that effortless authority that always made his knees go weak. "What are you doing standing outside the executive restroom? And... why does your right side look so incredibly heavy?"

Gavin realized, with absolute horror, that he had instinctively shoved the massive brass handle into his blazer pocket. The sheer weight of the solid metal was dragging his trousers down on one side, making him tilt awkwardly to the right like a sinking ship.

"Oh! Miss Lee! Rose! Hey!" Gavin stammered, frantically pulling his blazer down to cover the massive, metallic bulge. "I was just... stretching! Yeah! The glute activation is key when you're sitting at a desk all day. Highly recommended. Ten out of ten, fr."

Rose stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she looked him up and down. "Stretching. Gavin, you are tilting at a thirty-degree angle. Are you having a medical episode?"

"No! No medical episodes here! I am in peak physical condition," Gavin lied, flashing what he hoped was a charming, high-rizz smile, though it probably looked like a grimace of sheer physical agony. "Never felt better, honestly. Just... vibing with the corporate atmosphere."

Rose stepped even closer, her perfume—an intoxicating mix of vanilla and expensive amber—washing over him. Up close, her beauty was dizzying, and Gavin found himself momentarily forgetting that he was hiding a stolen piece of office hardware in his pants.

"Is that so?" Rose murmured, her eyes dropping to his lopsided stance, then shifting past him to the restroom door. Her expression suddenly hardened. "Gavin. Where is the door handle?"

Gavin swallowed hard, his throat dry. "The... the handle?"

"Yes, Gavin. The solid brass handle that was attached to this door thirty seconds ago."

"Oh! That!" Gavin let out a loud, forced laugh that sounded incredibly high-pitched. "Oh, man. You won't believe it, Rose. I went to grab it, right? And it just... literally disintegrated. Like, straight up snapped off in my hand. The build quality in this office is majorly sus, no cap. They must be sourcing these from some budget supplier. It’s a literal safety hazard."

"It disintegrated?" Rose stepped directly into his personal space, her dark eyes searching his face with intense scrutiny. She reached out, her cool, manicured fingers lightly brushing against his right pocket, where the heavy metal shape was glaringly obvious. "And I suppose the handle 'disintegrated' directly into your blazer?"

Gavin gasped softly at her touch. The brief contact felt like a jolt of pure static electricity, far more intense than any spider bite. He looked down into her eyes, completely captivated by her proximity.

"I... uh... I was just securing the evidence," he whispered, his brain completely short-circuiting. "For maintenance. To prove we got scammed by the contractors. I’m looking out for the company budget, boss. On god."

Rose stared at him, her lips twitching as if she were trying to suppress a smile, though her eyes remained intensely sharp.

"On god?" she echoed softly, her tone carrying a wealthy, elegant amusement. "You are a very strange man, Gavin."

"I'm just... built different," he whispered, staring at her lips, completely spellbound. For a brief second, the office, the sticky hand, and the broken door faded away into the background.

Before Rose could reply, a loud, obnoxious siren blared from Gavin’s back pocket.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Gavin jumped, the sudden noise shattering the tense, romantic bubble between them. He awkwardly fumbled with his left hand, pulling out his vibrating phone.

"Sorry, I have to take this—it's... it's my phone," Gavin muttered, his face flushing crimson.

He glanced at the screen. A bright red emergency alert banner was flashing.

SENDER: LANDLORD.

MESSAGE: URGENT. Gavin, your apartment's pipes just exploded. There is glowing blue water flooding the entire lobby. What did you put down your drain?!

Gavin stared at the screen, the color draining from his face.

"Oh, rip," he whispered.

Rose arched a single, perfect eyebrow. "Is there a problem, Gavin?"

"Uh," Gavin squeaked, looking from her beautiful, suspicious face to the glowing text on his phone. "I think my apartment is currently speedrunning a natural disaster."