Kong. Under New Management 2.

Stepping down from the Winnebago, the young man pops the last piece of toast into his mouth and listens to the quiet drip of water that is coming at him from the corners of the room. Another one, much closer, seems to be overhead. So he looks up into the dark recesses, where the pipes for the air-conditioning run in straight lines around the walls, dissecting the room and adding an element of roundness to the sharp boxed corners and edges. Opening the bottle of rum that he's brought with him, he steps down from the wagon and moves to shut the door behind him. When suddenly he hears a sharp tap tap tap sound and turns his head in its direction. Pausing to listen for a moment, the repetitious noise echoes loudly and more persistently. Stopping periodically then starting up again, as though the noise's creator is desperate to attract someone's attention. Finally pulling the door closed and taking a swig from the bottle. Kyle walks towards the noise, guessing that it's coming from the large garage door, to see who or what is there.

The tapping sound has become even more persistent by the time he arrives. However, he's not about to let the person or persons on the other side believe that they can summon attention to themselves this way. So he takes his time and swigs from his bottle again, allowing the noise to continue. Before finally lifting his hand to the control panel and slapping his palm against the large red button. The metal door rattles and groans in complaint, then slowly begins to move; The edges of the door screeching along the rails on either side and the huge motor whirring high above him. Exacerbates his already pounding headache and makes it feel as though the sound is being drilled directly into his temples. Pressing the fingers and thumb of one hand into his temples to try and massage the pain away. He manages to ease some of it back enough to cope and leans down to look under the edge of the door to the driveway outside. Moving backwards as he does so, he's surprised when Cortez the raven walks under the door and comes to a stop just a couple of feet from him. They stand there silently looking at one another for a moment.  Neither one moving a muscle, as if waiting to see what, if anything, will happen. After a few seconds more of silence, it's obvious that the bird is expecting something from him. So Kyle decides to introduce himself and see if perhaps the raven will accept that he's the new master around here.

“Kyle. Kyle Wolf. Pleased to meet you.” Thrusting out his hand automatically, he's almost completed the move when he realises that he's about to attempt to shake hands with a bird. Quickly changing the gesture and sweeping his hand up to his head, he runs his fingers through his hair and weakly smiles, hoping that the creature hadn't noticed.

The raven tips his head slightly to his shoulder, then turns and walks away, heading towards the wagon and for a bird, looking just as confident waddling along on his short legs as he would have if he'd flown the distance. Standing up much straighter and looking around, as if expecting to see someone standing there ready to shout 'gotcha', because this is part of some elaborate stunt that has been pulled on him, just to make him look silly for a reality television program. Kyle quickly discovers that apart from Cortez, he's alone. So he turns on his heel and with a couple of long strides, catches up to the bird; Watching him walking along, the young man is surprised that although his short stride makes him wobble in a slightly ungainly way. Oddly enough, with his head down, Cortez looks almost like an angry stout man. Akin to a Mafia Godfather, or something similar. When he walks around the front of the wagon and disappears, Kyle is forced to take longer steps to catch up to him.

Coming to a stop under the side door, Cortez lifts his head and stares at it, then looks over at Kyle and caws softly. The young man hesitantly approaches the door and reaches for the handle, pausing because he's not one hundred percent sure that this is what he wants. Impatiently the bird flutters up to the step and pecks hard at the bottom of the door, turning and once again looking at Kyle, then cawing again. This time in a more angry fashion. Kyle pulls the door open part way and the raven flutters down to the floor again. Once it's open fully the bird flutters up and inside, landing on the floor in the doorway and looking around. Waddling over to the bench seat he flaps his wings and alights on the cushions, then hops to the corner and flutters up to the back of the drivers seat, perching there and looking out the front window. Seeing that he seems happy enough, Kyle moves to shut the door again, only to have the bird screech angrily at him.

“Okay, okay. It stays open,” Kyle says and instead lays the door back against the wall of the vehicle, latching it there. Possibly still traumatised from being locked in for so long, the bird blinks at the young man and finally settles, ruffling his feathers and preening a few of them back into place.

Now that Cortez is back where he belongs, it's time to get the day started. So Kyle takes another swig of rum and heads off in the direction of the the corridor. Just before he reaches the foyer door he hears the phone ringing. He picks up the pace a little and reaches it before the call rings off, moving around the desk and taking a seat in the large leather chair. Something that he's been thinking about for the last few days, is perhaps hiring a receptionist to handle phones and ticket sales. This will free him up for other things and he'd have more time to work out other ways of bringing in some revenue. The cafe certainly turns over an amazing amount of business. Giving drinks and sandwiches names that are associated with the band and selling plastic cups with Hewlett designs on them, made sure of that. The Hobbs Mega-Sub with Cheese, a white sour dough roll, with chicken meatballs, a sprinkle of olives, lettuce, onions, red and green capsicum, two types of cheese and topped off with Cajun hot sauce. Washed down with Murdoc's Purple Rage. Basically carbonated grape juice, mixed with a dash of lemon and lime and topped off with a twisty straw. Just two of the more popular items on the menu and often the first to be sold out. He'd already had to hire more staff for the cafe alone. So why not go one step further and add a receptionist? It's not like he can't afford it now.

“Murdoc?” a teenage girl asks as she steps up to the desk.

“Err, no you idiot,” he snarls, then realises what he's said. “I mean the guy on the phone,” he quickly whispers at her and points at the receiver, hoping that she accepts that. She nods and points out what she wants on the board and he gives her the thumbs up, indicating acknowledgement.

Tearing off two tickets and taking the money from her, he waves her on and finishes the call. Now quite adamant that he is going to get someone to take over desk duties. If people are going to automatically assume that he's the bassist, just because he happens to be sitting there. Then he'll never get any peace. Not that it's hard to miss the classic Murdocian features in my profile, he thinks as he's about to stand up. Instantly coming to a stop half way out of the chair. He wrinkles his nose and wonders where on Earth that thought had come from. He'd never thought of himself as having Murdoc like features before? Deciding that perhaps he's been working too hard, he lifts himself to full height and makes a move to step from behind the desk. Just as a whole load of people enter the foyer.

“Gah,” he groans and retakes his seat. “This is much too much like hard work and I already need a holiday.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

Watching the tour guide walking away with the group of visitors and finally feeling as though he can breathe out. Kyle puts up a 'back in ten minutes' sign and removes the cash box from the desk drawer. Tucking it under his arm he flips on the answering machine and makes sure that he's taken everything with him; He pats down his pockets then checks himself, before turning around and quickly heading towards the alcove. The loud grunt of someone clearing their throat behind him pulls him up and turning to tell them to go away, in no uncertain terms, his eyes fall upon the possible solution to his reception problem. There before him stands a young man with sky blue hair. Tall and lean, he resembles the Gorillaz singer enough to be mistaken for him at a glance.

“Hallo, I was wondering if there was any way I could get Noodle's football helmet? You know? The one in the....”

“I know the one you mean and sure,” Kyle growls, cutting the guy off then slowly making his way back over to him, carefully looking him over in almost a predatory way. He studies him closely, thinking how interesting it would be to have the guy sitting there serving customers. Close enough to be mistaken for the singer. Which reminds him that at some point he has to see if he can talk to the band members and get them involved in the venture.

“Oh err... That's nice,” the young man says nervously, cautiously turning with the guy to keep him in sight. “I didn't see it in the gift shop. Does that mean that I have to order it?” Kyle comes to a stop and lifts his gaze to match the anxious one that's being fired down at him.

“You want the helmet?” he growls at him, annoyed that he's been stopped to answer what he considers to be a silly question.

“Yeah,” the blue haired guy replies.

“Why ask the receptionist instead of the guys in the gift shop then?” the building owner challenges and juts his chin out at him in annoyance, glaring at him and hoping that this is enough to make the tall lanky guy shut up about it. There's silence for a moment, then the blue haired guy drops his weight heavily down onto one hip and folds his arms over his chest.

“Cause they went on a break twenty minutes ago and haven't gotten back yet. That's why,” he snarls back. Kyle shoots a look towards the gift shop and sees that it is indeed locked up tight. This irritates him considerably. Not simply because the gift shop is closed as such, but more because he's been made to look a little foolish.

“Whatever,” he growls and turns to walk away. Wishing to get himself as far away from the situation as he can.

“So how do I get it then?” the guy asks firmly, taking a step towards him.

“Can you answer phones, take and make shipping orders, operate a computer, add and subtract, read, write and follow simple instructions?” Kyle growls back. The young man stares silently at him, thinking about it.

“Yeah, why?”

“You're hired. Now go sit at that desk and if you do a good enough job, I'll get you the damn helmet,” the building owner says with a smirk then continues on to the door. Watching him go for a moment, the kid suddenly snaps to attention.

“Thanks, the name's Zach by the way!” he manages to shout before Kyle has completely stepped from the room. The slightly cold look this receives makes the young man shiver, but he heads to the desk and sets everything back up, getting ready to serve the next bus load of customers.