Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to these characters or The Office.

He'd been imagining this day with sick pleasure. The place that had nearly suffocated him with humiliation, boredom, daily degradation, was now squarely under his boot. He owned this blistered, rotting motherfucker now, and he planned to show it no mercy. Not now. Not ever. They had never believed in him and they had dismissed his capabilities so callously. And now he'd show them. And his high school classmates too for that matter... and his father, who had coldly warned him that an MBA from a third tier part-time program wasn't worth the paper it was printed on. Fuck them... all of them.

He steered his leased BMW 323 into the lot and aimed it at the spot next to the damned Sebring that he had once been forced to clean the McDonald's wrappers out of. Wallace must have known how desperate he was to get out of Scranton. Despite his impressive new title, he'd only been offered a mild pay raise, and Wallace had refused to budge. His higher salary didn't even offset the considerable cost of living increase from Scranton to New York, and to make matters worse, his B-school loans were now coming due. Despite all this, though, he had squeezed out every bit of disposable income to lease this car, just for this moment. He almost skidded into the spot, before exiting the car and loudly slamming the door.

He made a surreptitious glance around to see if anyone had seen him... nobody. Damn. Wait... somebody. It was Karen. Headed into the building. She'd probably seen the Beamer roll in, but him driving it? Maybe, maybe not. As soon as Karen disappeared into the lobby, Ryan broke into a run. He wanted to catch the elevator with her. As he approached the door, he decelerated to make it appear he had walked the whole way. He rounded the corner as Karen was stepping in.

"Hold it!"

Too loud. Not as cool as he had wanted. But authoritative, which she and the rest of the minions had better get used to. Karen turned and stared blankly at him. As he approached the elevator, she made no move to push the door-open button, and the doors began to close. He abandoned his veneer of coolness and broke into a short jog, getting to the doors and ramming his hand through them with about six inches to spare. The doors re-opened and he stepped inside.

He'd heard the rumors about Halpert. Cutting this little fox loose so he could go enjoy his junior-high relationship with, of all people, the secretary. If he'd rather go around playing retarded pranks than nail this exotic little piece of ass, that was his loss. Which was good, because there was a potent new force in the building, at least for today. She was silent. His move.

"So how's everything going?"

He turned and gave her a little nod and a hint of a smile. Big shit corporate guys don't grin. Karen was looking straight ahead and didn't seem inclined to move. Maybe she needed a little reminding. A little gloating with the pretense of diplomacy.

"Look, I know it may be weird that I'm the boss now..."

Karen sprang to life.

"Shut the fuck up, Ryan. For you own good."

He was floored. For about a second... until he remembered just who the hell he was.

"Hey! What the hell got into you..."

Karen didn't interrupt him, but she shut him up by pulling the elevator's emergency stop. The elevator jolted to a halt and Ryan was stunned. Karen lit into him with perfect timing.

"The boss, huh. Isn't that cute. Well the way I see it, that's good news for me because for the short time I plan on still working here, if the dice don't fall perfectly for me, I'll know just who to blame. And I have a bumbling, beyond unprofessional email to prove bias if I have to. That'd be ugly, wouldn't it... BOSS."

Karen pushed the emergency stop back in and the elevator started upwards again. Ryan was still bumbling for a response when Karen couldn't resist hitting him again. Her voice was soft, almost whimsical.

"Hmmmmm. The first thing I want is to get to take over all your clients. Oh... wait... nevermind. What was I thinking? I guess since the rest of the salespeople actually made sales I just assumed... my bad."

Ryan was saved when the doors opened and Karen stepped out. He took a moment to compose himself. What a bitch. She could have been bitchy because she just got dumped, or maybe she had some hard-core PMS, but she was probably just jealous, and he would have to tread carefully around her.

Ryan had no way of knowing that after getting her heart broken and enduring two painful weeks of watching Jim and Pam obliviously flaunt their new relationship with increasing openness, Karen had finally broken, ducking into the bathroom stall and crying as quietly as she could. And it had been Kelly who heard the muffled sobs, crawled under the door, and held Karen's head tightly against her chest until she recomposed herself. And then Kelly had offered up words of encouragement, and told of Ryan's actions to give Karen something to relate to, and before long a stunned Karen was covered in Kelly's tears. They had found each other when each needed a friend. And Kelly's hatred had spread...

Shake it off. Nobody saw that. He waited a moment to get his wits back about him. He eyed the door, fiddled with his expensive new necktie, stood up as tall as he could, and made his way in. The fun was about to start. Asses were about to get kicked. This was going to be a seriously painful day, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

He was right about one thing.

The reception desk. He'd once been forced to spend a week languishing behind it, having his dignity slowly sucked away at an even faster rate than normal. He hated that they had all seen him like that. They were about to have their patronizing memories erased by a show of force from the only guy in the room who was headed anywhere. He looked over at the receptionist. It's not that she wasn't pretty. She was. In fact, given that Karen had foolishly preempted his advances, he would even consider Pam for the position of his Scranton booty call. No relationship, and that was firm. She would probably want one, given that his power and stature represented a way out for her, but it just wasn't going to happen. She could, however, keep his hotel bed warm on the occasional days he rolled into Scranton to take care of business...

He remembered Halpert. That would make things complicated. Wallace, for one stupid reason or another, appeared to have a real soft spot for the guy. Oh well... it wasn't worth the drama. Pretty or not, she may as well dig her grave behind that reception desk and crawl into it. Instead, Ryan would try calling some of the girls he knew from high school. Some of them were bound to still be around Scranton. Office romances were overrated anyway. Pam was chirping away on the phone, so Ryan coolly sided up to the desk and interrupted her.

"Pam. Tell Michael I'm here."

Pam glanced up at him and continued her conversation. She was apparently giving a client or a supplier directions to the building, or some other meaningless bullshit. Was everyone in this stupid joint going to need reminding?

"Pam!"

This time she looked up for real, but before Ryan could finish his thought, he felt it. Two giant hands... one on his throat, the other around the back of his neck. He was jolted backwards toward the door, dropping his new leather briefcase and grabbing his attacker's hand to try to keep his windpipe opened.

"Strike Three, boy! You've got a whole hell of a lot of nerve showing your face in this state again."

Stanley dragged him to the door and threw him out into the hallway by his neck. Before Ryan could regain his bearings, Stanley was on him, pinning him up against the wall with his belly. Ryan tried to curl up and defend himself, but Stanley was too close. Their noses even touched a few times as Stanley tore into him with a spittle laced tirade.

"Boy, how many times do I have to warn you about keeping your perverted ass out of my daughter's business. How many times?"

"I swear... I didn't do anything. I swear!"

"Don't lie to me you dirty little pervert. If I EVER get wind of you sniffing around anywhere near that child, I swear to you your next warning will be from Jesus himself because boy, that's where I'm sending you. Do you understand me?"

Ryan could feel Stanley's spit spray his face and eyelids. He deserved better than this, dammit. Stanley would have to be punished. But for now, he just wanted to survive the ass-chewing.

"Stanley I didn't..." He had always been a bit intimidated by black guys. Perhaps that explained why his attempt at a powerfully shouted response came out sounding like a pathetic whimper.

"THE HELL YOU DIDN'T. Kelly told me everything. And let me tell you this you little worm... you shout out the name of a man's FIFTEEN year old daughter during sex... boy you just be glad you're still breathing."

This was so not cool. What kind of crap had Kelly been spreading about him? Ryan tried again to belt out a denial but Stanley silenced him with an emphatic finality. This time Ryan got sprayed a bit in his eyes.

"Just shut your damn mouth." Stanley pushed him into the wall roughly one last time, and turned and headed back into the office, muttering angrily to himself as he went. Ryan heard a dampened thud through the door, which he would soon find out was made by his new briefcase as Stanley stepped on it. This time it took Ryan more than a minute to compose himself. He straightened his shirt and tie, and ran his trembling fingers through his hair to try to straighten it out. Thank God he had stopped for gas on the way over, and used the bathroom at the station, or he might have pissed himself.

A lesser man would have given in to his primal desire for revenge, but he was smarter than that. A conflict with Stanley would result in some very ugly accusations being thrown, and Ryan was too smart to risk tarnishing his brightly burning career prospects in a shit-hurling contest with a man on his way to retirement: a man with nothing to lose. Stanley had no idea how lucky he was to be saved, unknowingly, by the superior intelligence of the man he had just unjustly attacked. He'd get a wide berth. Karen too. And he'd have to be careful about butting heads with Jim. Everyone else was about to eat some serious shit. Starting with the Idiot-in-Chief himself.

This time he didn't bother with Pam. He pushed past reception, threw Michael's door open, and barged noisily in. He slammed the door behind him to make sure no cameraman followed him in.

Michael looked up at him warmly. He hated everything about this man. The pathetic attempts at humor, the overpowering need to feel loved. Most of all, he hated how he owed his very existence at this company to the continued patience of this simple little man. This unspoken debt would keep Michael from offering up the respect that Ryan was now due. Michael was a living, breathing link to the old Ryan: to everything he was out to leave behind. To sever this painful reminder, Michael had to be dealt with mercilessly and quickly.

"Ryan! Back already? I knew you'd miss me, but yeeeeow." Michael instinctively turned and gave the camera a knowing smile, but stopped when he realized he was looking at an empty wall. Bullshit time was over.

"Cut it Michael, and just try to sit there and listen for a change." Michael seemed a little stunned and gestured to the one visitor chair in his office that wasn't stacked with boxes and other junk. Apparently his office hadn't quite recovered from the recent painting and unpainting. Ryan chose to remain on his feet for his initial volley.

"Let's be completely clear about one thing right up front. Starting NOW, you have to forget every notion you have about our relationship and get used to the way things are from now on. I'm in charge now and will be treated as such. No more temp references. No more stupid nicknames. No more..."

Ryan was rudely interrupted as the door swung open. He turned to chew out... FUCK! Not her again. She dismissively ignored him and went right to Michael.

"Hey, Michael, I need you signature on this purchase order."

Michael grabbed the invoice from Karen and signed it, and as he gave it a precursory glance, he addressed her with a theatrical, formal flourish.

"Aah -- A new client, very good my lady."

Ryan knew perfectly well she could have gotten Michael's signature any time. What a bitch.

"Easiest sale I ever made. I can't believe we didn't hook these guys sooner. Who was on that account anyway?"

She knew damn well who was on it.

Karen paused on her way out the door. She glanced briefly at Ryan and then picked up Michael's guest chair and silently left the room with it, leaving him no option to sit. For the first time since that homeless woman had asked him for spare change last week, Ryan wanted to hit a woman. It was a damn good thing he didn't, because unbeknownst to him, another man had entered the room just as Karen had left. A man whose sense of chivalry would have prompted swift, heroic, undeniably painful-for-Ryan action at the slightest hint of a woman coming under the threat of violence. Ryan felt warm breath hitting the back of his neck.

DAMMIT! Was this a fucking tag team? The timing of these maddening disruptions seemed a little too good. He had no idea how good. No idea. After having her heart broken by Jim, Karen, despite being emotionally drained and mentally pre-occupied with her ongoing job search, had found a way to extract a brutal, painful revenge on her ex and his new lover. She had taken from them one of the main pillars of their bond. She had taken their favorite target made him bulletproof. She had formed an alliance with Dwight. And it wasn't only to spite Jim. After being with the wishy-washy Jim for so long, she respected the fact that you always knew exactly where you stood with Dwight. He had always been kind to her, and now she had no reason to let him come under attack. Not only was he now a hard target, he kept Jim and Pam off balance with a potent new array of offensive moves. With Karen's help, Dwight had transformed from Jim and Pam's punching bag into their tormentor.

It had started on Monday, when Jim and Pam had attempted their old "pretendinitis" routine on Dwight. A secret IM from Karen, and he was wise to the game immediately, and retaliated by pressing Jim's car keys into a potato and launching it into the next zip code. Jim and Pam had found them just before they ran out of daylight. Tuesday's attempt to convince Dwight to shave his pubic hair failed equally spectacularly. Jim and Pam had been on guard for possible retaliation, but Dwight had still managed to saw 90% of the way through the backrest on Jim's chair, causing a spectacular spill the first time he leaned back. To make matters worse, Dwight had then abandoned the tit-for-tat pranking and gone on the offensive, and at 11AM Wednesday morning, Jim received a singing dildo-gram from a local adult novelty store, delivered right to his desk.

Ryan knew Dwight might harbor him some resentment. He was the top salesman, after all, and he, like Karen, had been bypassed by Ryan's promotion. He would have to be dealt with, of course, but in isolation. One on one, Ryan could handle him. Meanwhile, he had no idea that an already resentful Dwight had also absorbed a lot of the ill will toward him that had flowed his way from Kelly via Karen. Had he bothered to turn around and look into the icy stare that was boring a hole in the back of his neck, he might have been clued in.

"Hello temp."

This situation could easily spin out of control entirely.  He had to gain control, and fast.  Dwight was a potent adversary for one reason only.  He was the company's best salesman and if he resigned Ryan would have to explain to Wallace why he had failed to keep their top earner in the fold.  Dwight would have two choices... he could either get on board with the new order or Ryan would slowly suffocate him, sabotaging his clients one by one until Dwight was vulnerable enough to be fired. Dwight would never underestimate him again, that was for damn sure.  He lurched quickly to his left, and then spun and faced Dwight directly.  Times like these, he would have traded his left nut to be six inches taller.  He looked up and met the icy gaze of the taller man as he began shouting.

"That'll be the LAST time you call me Temp... EVER.  I'm in charge now.  Am I making myself crystal clear, Dwight?"

Dwight looked completely unmoved.  Was anyone in this rotten little shithole going to give him the respect he deserved? He would relish the moment he got to shut the whole damn place down. Or better yet... burn it to the ground. 

"You're not my boss... my boss is sitting right over there... TEMP"

Michael couldn't contain a proud smile.  Ryan hurried to the door and quickly shut it.  He'd have to contain the damage in the short term.

"And I'm HIS boss, Dwight, so get used to it."

"Did they teach you a little thing called loyalty in business school, Ryan?  Or were you absent that day?  Well let me give you a free lesson"

He pulled out an envelope, ceremoniously unfolded a letter, and began to read.  This was unexpected.

"In light of recent confidence-undermining personnel decisions taken by Dunder Mifflin, we the undersigned do certify that our continued business with Dunder Mifflin is hereby contingent on the continued employment of one Mr. Michael Scott and one Mr. Dwight Schrute.  Signed..."

Ryan listened in horror as Dwight read off a laundry list of the company's biggest clients.  That treacherous bastard.  It wasn't a matter of whether he'd pay for this... it was just a matter of when.  Senior managers don't get held hostage by peon salesmen, no matter how large their Rolodex.  The sooner he could drill that through Dwight's thick head the better.  Ryan contemplated his options.  Soliciting this letter should be a fire-able offense, but any customer loyal enough to Dwight to sign the letter in the first place would inevitably refuse to confirm that Dwight had initiated it.  He didn't have the credibility just yet to go to war with the company's top earner.  He'd have to back off in the short term to allow himself to time to build a case against Dwight, Michael, and Scranton, in order to undermine the credibility that they seemed to possess right now in spades.  FUCK!  This wasn't the plan, but he was nimble, adaptable, agile... lethal.  He had an MBA for Christ's sake.  This was a tactical retreat.  He would return, and he would kill.

Dwight made his way over to Michael's' desk and stood behind his seated boss, his countenance stern, his arms crossed authoritatively. Ryan changed the subject.

"Get the hell out of here Dwight.  I need to talk to Michael."

Michael looked up at Dwight and nodded gently.  Dwight slowly made his way out of the room.  It took everything Ryan had to remain composed when he heard the music.  Dwight was softly humming Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire."

"Shut the door!"

Dwight ignored him and left the door wide open, and Ryan tried to look casual as he made his way over to shut it.  All pretense of cordiality was gone from his voice as he spun back around and faced Michael.  He hissed at Michael, shaking a trembling finger across his desk into his face as he spoke. 

"Listen up and listen good.  This will end badly for you, I swear it."

He was hardly surprised when Michael seemed unintimidated. 

"Calm down, my friend, there's no need to make this personal..." 

He heard Michael's casual, dismissive tone and lost it.

"Its beyond personal, you bastard!  Get me coffee Ryan!  Clean my car, Ryan!  Drive my asshole friend to his sales calls because he had too many DUIs to do it his fucking self, Ryan!  You're damn right its personal.  Call me a tease...  Embarrass me in front of my classmates...  Sit me next to Kelly...  I will bury you, Michael, no matter how long it takes me.  You have no idea what I'm capable of, but I swear to you you're going to find out, and it's going to hurt."

For the first time all day, Ryan felt good.  His own words resonated in his head like music.  It wasn't how he had imagined laying down the law, but throwing a few raw threats at an old nemesis made him feel alive.  He turned his attention to Michael to savor his reaction to the potent verbal volley that had just slammed into him.

Something wasn't right.  Michael hadn't moved an inch.  It was almost like he knew it was coming.  He expected the searing personal attack?  How could he expect that?  How could he be ready for that?  The picture wasn't adding up.  A chilling thought hit Ryan.  Hard. 

Michael hadn't expected to get attacked like that at all.  It was far worse.  He had induced it.  He had solicited the attack: goaded Ryan into it.  This wasn't a man capable of second-order feints and gambits... what in God's name was going on?  Michael looked right through Ryan and began nodding his head gently. Oh fuck. 

"Well I think that's just about all we need to hear."

The voice wasn't Michael's.  Ryan's eyes darted to the phone.  The red light of the speakerphone indicator was lit.  My God.  Jan.  He burned with rage as he kicked himself for overlooking the fact that the simple, unsophisticated Michael had a very capable, very vengeful angel on his shoulder.  He had taken her job, after all.  Michael had no doubt initiated the call just before he entered the office, in order to insure that he could claim the recording that inevitably happened on the other end of the line was unintentional, and therefore perfectly legal.  He was fucked.  He needed time to think.  He needed space to think. 

He made for the door, but before he could get there it lurched open.  He would have pushed his way out but Pam stepped into the doorway.  He wanted to run her over.  In about three seconds he would want to punch her pretty little face...  Her voice was sweet as always.

"Michael, there's a Beamer in the parking lot, and somebody glued a dildo to the hood ornament.  Oh hi Ryan."

She had always looked cute when she smiled. The times she abandoned her usual tight lipped grin and actually showed her teeth, she looked downright beautiful. But during their six months together, it had always been the moments he could make her lose control and laugh hysterically that he treasured the most, because she had such an adorably dorky way of laughing. Her eyes and mouth would pop wide open, she'd lose control of her breathing, and she'd inevitably cover her mouth with her hand to try to maintain some propriety. He missed that.

As soon as Ryan had hit the door, the entire staff had raced to Michael's office or the conference room to watch the comedic gold unfold in the parking lot below. By chance Jim, with a smiling Pam nestled discretely under his left arm, found himself in the human pile crowded in Michael's office with Karen to his right, wedged between Michael and Andy. As funny as the aftermath of his handiwork was, however, he couldn't resist peeking over at Karen and enjoying her hysterical laughter. In one instant she caught him and flinched her gaze over to meet his. Maybe it was simply inertia, but for the first time since he had left her, the rare eye contact between them didn't chase the smile from her face. He thought he even picked up a knowing little nod. For the shortest of moments, she was free of anger and he was free of guilt, and they stood united by the presence of a common enemy. Karen turned her attention back to the scene below, and Jim followed suit.

"Think we should help him?" Michael sounded insincere through his unabashed laughter.

Jim pulled Pam against him even more tightly and leaned back contentedly.

"Not right now, but ask me again five years ago."

...................

After several unsuccessful attempts to pry it off by the base, Ryan was now grabbing the obscene rubber protrusion with both hands. With his feet braced against the front bumper, he pulled that stubborn rubber phallus as hard as he could. His hands immediately lost traction and he lurched off the bumper. Whatever soon-to-be-dead fuckhead had done this had actually lubed the abomination up to make it harder to remove.

"Hey... Try biting it!"

He angrily wheeled around to see Daryl and Lonny doubled over against Daryl's truck, laughing so hard they were barely able to remain on their feet even with the truck's support. Daryl had his camera phone opened in his hand. He nearly cursed angrily at them but his fear of black guys ended up winning out. He looked up and to his horror the fourth floor windows were filled with faces. This was it. A line had been crossed. He was their superior, and they insisted on treating him like a laughing stock. The minions wanted play rough. It was time to kick some ass, consequences be damned. His anger got the best of him and he punched the dildo one last time. He realized his mistake immediately as Daryl and Lonny redoubled their laughter at the sight of his new hood ornament wagging mockingly back at him. Lonny was completely doubled over now, howling through his laughter.

"Yeeeee-OUCH!"

FUCK! He stormed back into the lobby, making sure not to make eye contact with the warehouse guys along the way. He'd find a way to fire them later. He had a sweet time imagining how much laughing those bastards would be doing while they waited in the unemployment line. He'd probably send Hunter to do the actual firings. You never could be too careful with blue collar guys, after all.

Ryan stormed into the office, made a shallow left turn and fired his angry words into the teeming mass of his inferiors.

"Everybody get out here NOW!" Everyone was already there, except for Michael, Toby and Kelly, and he really didn't care to see any of them, but he just needed to yell something. He hadn't figured on the uncomfortable delay while the rest of the group actually assembled. The silence was burning as he stood there looking them over, the hatred in his eyes undoubtedly blatantly clear. Dwight the bastard had stood up and was standing with his arms akimbo, no doubt to remind Ryan that he was a physically bigger man. Jim the idiot turned around slowly with that signature casual, I-don't-give-a-shit-about-anything attitude that Ryan so despised. Karen the bitch was sitting parallel to her desk, leaning back easily in her chair... her feet propped casually on the guest chair that she had taken from Ryan earlier.

It was Karen who broke the awkward silence. The dismissive air with which she spoke annoyed him even before he could process her words. You don't speak to your boss' boss with such a casual attitude. You just don't. If he never saw her again it would be too soon.

"New job's quite a handful, eh boss?"

Ryan could barely react before that slacker prick Jim chimed in.

"Well at least nobody's going to call you 'fire-guy' anymore."

Stanley rose to his feet, glaring, gently knocking his clenched fists together. Andy was also on his feet, squinting and grinning uncontrollably, his arm draped gently over... Kelly ? He hadn't seen her slide into the room, and as much as he had prepared himself for this moment, hearing her voice startled him.

"Oh hello Ryan. I didn't see you there." The casual tone of her voice was so affected it fooled nobody, except maybe herself.

"Kelly." He forced himself to be polite for the first time all day. She knew things... she knew way too much. And this was a very public place and that had never stopped her before... He had to move on. He could deal with her later. Ryan stood as tall as he could and addressed the room.

"Whoever is responsible for vandalizing my vehicle, it's in your best interest to step forward now."

He suspected Jim. It had to be Jim. And if it wasn't, he never really liked Jim anyways, so oh well.

He knew there was no way in hell anyone would confess. He was only asking to set the stage for his next move. The feeble minded peons were about to learn a little about higher-order thinking. He was Ryan Fuckin' Howard after all. Ryan Fuckin' Howard, MBA, and he never thought just one move ahead. Order would be established. Payback would be had. All in one, brilliant move. He waited about ten seconds for effect. Payback time. He didn't even turn his head to make eye contact. He was looking at Jim the whole time.

"Pam, you're fired."

Checkmate. Jim looked floored. Ryan savored the stunned silence coming from his former co-workers. His main targets were safe for the time being. That had been a truly unwelcome development. But now they could all get a taste of what was coming. He had to get out of there before the worms had time to regroup. He smirked a bit at Jim, and then turned left 180 degrees, so as to avoid seeing Pam, and headed for the door. He would have made it if Michael hadn't been standing behind him, blocking his retreat.

He knew that a showdown was brewing with Michael. Michael had admittedly won round one in convincing fashion, but Ryan was too fucking good not to win out in the end. This was a fight that had to be deferred, however, to allow him time to level the playing field. The look in the man's eyes, however, made it perfectly clear that he wasn't going to cooperate. The showdown would have to happen now. On Michael's home turf. In front of everyone.

"Get out of the way, Michael, go back to your office and I'll call you in the morning."

Michael didn't escalate the argument as Ryan had expected. If anything he looked disappointed. A little sad even. Such a strange, strange look, boring into him.

And then Ryan figured the man out.

The full weight of Michael's counter-attack became apparent to him just before it arrived. The man was disappointed because he had failed... and he was staring his failure right in the face. Ryan was his failure. In his own flailing, incompetent manner, Michael had tried to shape him, to teach him... and he had failed. Ryan was witnessing the very instant where Michael had finally stopped believing in him. His self-appointed mentor role was finally forever behind him, the faith in Ryan that had sustained itself through two sales-free years finally evaporated. Michael was about to exercise the only option he had left. It was time to kill... Time to kill the wayward son.

"The only person who needs to worry about their job is you, Ryan..."

His hatred of this man aside, the death blow was brilliant.

"You know what I could use right now... a nice cup of coffee."

Submit now, give up on ever establishing his rightful position, admit defeat, and possibly salvage his new job, or go to war with a man he now knew he could never beat. Damn you, Michael Scott. Damn you to hell.

It started quietly with Karen, and was picked up quickly by Dwight, and by the time he had made it to the kitchen, it had reached a roar. The words burned his very soul as he poured the coffee.

"Mi-CHAEL, Mi-CHAEL, Mi-CHAEL..."