This is something I originally started writing like a year ago for the kink meme, although there is currently zero porn involved. I'm toying with the idea of starting it up again because it was a lot of fun to write. The scenes are pretty short, to begin with.

The Courier swung her leg over the bicycle and coasted to a stop. She padlocked the bike to a parking meter, and jogged into House Tower. The lobby was grandiose, marble floors and pillars, abstract metal sculptures.

"Hold the elevator please," she called out. The elevator's sole occupant held his hand out, blocking the door from shutting.

"Thanks," she said as she got in, panting a little. The man smiled.

"No problem, kid," he said.

She hit the button for the top floor. Sixty floors, Jesus Christ. She couldn't wait to see the view. As they started going up, she realised none of the other buttons were lit up. She looked sidelong at the man next to her.

"That package for Mr. House?" he asked. She didn't reply.

"I'm real sorry about this, kid," he said. He pulled a gun out of his jacket. "I'm going to need to take it off your hands."

"Fuck," she said. "Okay." She dug in her bag, and handed the courier bag to him, hands trembling.

"Thanks, honey," he said, and pressed the button for the next floor. He half stepped out, then reached over and ran his hand over the set of buttons, lighting up each one for the elevator on the way up. He winked at her. "Just a little getaway time."

She watched the doors close. And then open, and close, and open, and close, for each of the next thirty god-damn floors. By the time she got to the top floor, the adrenaline was wearing off, her pulse returning to normal.

"Are you okay, miss?" the receptionist had very red lips and a beehive.

"Um," said the Courier. "I just got mugged for a delivery."

She called her roommate to pick her up from the police station. Her bike was still back at House Tower. They'd asked her questions for almost an hour and a half, but all she could really tell them was that he had dark hair and a distinctive jacket. She'd messed around with the composites for a good twenty minutes, but it didn't look anything like him.

She was sitting on the police station steps when her roommate pulled up.

"Hey, Ronnie," she said. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem," Veronica said as she got in. "Sounds like you've had an exciting day. Wasn't much enjoying mechanical engineering diagrams anyway."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," she said. "It was like the weirdest thing ever. Why don't we go visit your boyfriend, see if we can scab some nitrous oxide from the chem lab?"

"He's not my boyfriend." Veronica stuck out her tongue. "He's just, like, the only guy in engineering that I've met that doesn't hit on me literally all the time. Or assume I'm not smart enough to understand what the professor's talking about." She pulled up to the curb outside House Tower. The Courier got out, unlocked her bike, and threw it in the trunk.

"Your professor is mega-creepy," said the Courier. "Like really intense. Possibly crazy."

"No, he's just really smart," said Veronica, exasperated. "He has all these amazing ideas. Like really, revolutionary in the mech eng field."

"He has a crazy-man beard. That's how you can tell he's crazy."

"Shut up." Veronica grinned. "Let's go to Shadows."

Shadows was a bar catering mostly to grad students; small, not too loud, cheap drinks, and comfy seats. The Courier was surrounded by a small band of english students that she'd been an undergrad with.

"You told him to take his gun and shove it?" one of them asked, wide-eyed.

"I totally did," she lied through the haze of cheap wine. "And I tried to grab the gun off him, but he smacked me with the butt of the gun and grabbed the package out of my hand."

"Fuck. Do you know what was in it?"

"No idea!" she said. "It was just a tiny package, too."

"Are you in trouble for losing it?"

"Nah. We got insurance. Boss won't be happy though." She frowned.

"Maybe you should carry a gun," one of them said. "I got a friend who got held up at knifepoint for their wallet, he said going to the shooting range and taking some lessons was one of the best things to make you feel better about it."

"I feel fine!" said the Courier. "But that kind of does sound like a good idea for if it ever happens again."