If you do what I want you to

The building was filled with an airy essence. Kind of like those feelings when one goes into a school for the first day, it all felt like tingles a certain Spider could ever dream of in terms of sense.

Molly made his way amongst the walking crowd, his face looking here and there as he slips through like a worm passing by huge clunky walls with legs. He removed one of his earbuds as if it was on instinct, remembering those times one would scream at him for not listening. Rubbing his hands together, he placed them on his mouth as he blows off steam- trying to heat himself from the cold breeze that is... nervousness.

Though, yeah, he was used to being screamed at and yelled at for his incompetence. But at least he's still getting paid for it.

Opening the door to his office- or rather, the place where his stack of paper lies—a very fitting name, funnily enough.

"You're late for twenty minutes again, Molly...!"

A female voice, petite, arms crossed, sighing, green hair. Not so funny anymore.

"I'm early..." Molly replied, pointing at the office clock arranged atop the wall, its ticking killing the silencing deafening quietness.

It was exactly 7:00 AM.

"W-well! I decide what's the time! Good thing you arrived on time, not like you'd fix your papers!"

An attempt to protect her pride for sure, though not an effective one; pouting as she sighed deeply before going back to her work.

"You never got your paycheck..." he said, stopping the woman in her tracks. "...that's why you're projecting, huh, Meyline?"

Another sigh came out of Meyline's mouth, facing him as she shrugged. "I mean, it's the boss's orders. The usual not-getting-paid-after-working-for-hours treatment. A quote-unquote 'morale booster' when it does the complete opposite..."

Molly got on his spot as he continued listening, sitting on a brown swivel chair; its greasy and old foam made a slight squeak- not that anyone could complain, though.

Meyline slumped over the wall, like a character lagging after an interaction, having such crappy "brain-WiFi" before the internet kicks in and led her to go back to her seat. Along her way, she picks up pieces of paper that flew off and bent over as she aligned them in a strange grey scanning device.

"You know..." Meyline pushed the button on the device as lines of light pierced through the paper, uploading the written information before the device decided that these white things needed to go. "...It has been a wonder to me how we got to this point..."

Molly began typing, still exhausted from handling an overwhelming caseload of paperwork yesterday, meticulously documenting each case and carefully analyzing financial records to maintain the highest level of accuracy and compliance, as if he pasted his eye on everything he catches.

"I mean, seriously? Flying cars? That's like... a meme-given life right there!"

Like a participant in a game "Rant-while-your-overworked-Credit-Investigator-is-doing-all-that-he-could-to-not-get-fired", green hair continued talking, knowing Molly is not that focused enough to have gone completely deaf.

"Just a few years ago, we were almost doomed by some kimchi-eating goose about to drop bombs on us. I mean, it's not like the gosh dang burger lovers weren't gonna drop their fair share of freedom on them, too..."

He continued doing his thing ("cooking", if you will) as he gets one of his latest cases- Mark Anderson, a young entrepreneur seeking a loan to expand his fledgling tech startup. Molly began inspecting Mark's credit report, verifying his payment history, outstanding debts, and credit score. Moments after Meyline tried to think of something to go on her chain of the rant, he then reached out to the references Mark had provided, cross-checking the legitimacy of his business venture and assessing his potential to repay the loan.

Next on the list was Emily Roberts- a single mother looking to secure a mortgage for her dream home. Molly perused Emily's financial statements, analyzing her income, expenses, and debt-to-income ratio to determine if she was a suitable candidate for the loan. To ensure accuracy, he requested additional documents from Meyline, including tax returns and proof of child support, carefully documenting each piece of information.

"But of course... It's not like there's never gonna be Martin "I-have-a-dream" Giovanni guy entering our world once in a while..." she handed the solicited documents as he finished his case on Ms. Roberts.

Of course, it's not always a straight solid asphalt road Molly would cross- there'd be some credit disputes he has to handle. One such case involved Mr. Jameson, who claimed an unauthorized charge on his credit card. With a keen eagle-like prowess, he fossicked through the large labyrinth of receipts, invoices, and transaction records. After a couple more rants with green hair, Molly soon traced the suspicious charge back to a fraudulent online vendor, ensuring that Mr. Jameson's credit report remained untarnished- like a pair of glasses that remained intact despite a building falling over it.

"<swallows lump>...Guy's basically fixed everything! Kinda want to see the old man be with us longer, such a shame really..."

Reaching the end of her talk show, so too was the piled papers on Molly's desk as he placed them on the automatic laser shredder, having a long sigh of relief- not just from having his job saved, but mostly because he was getting tired from all the banter green-hair went through.

"I mean... could you like, start a podcast with that voice of yours? Seems like you don't even fit being here..."

For once in around hours of pure focus, he replied.

"Heh, I already made one..." Meyline said back, showing him a YouTube channel entitled "Talkative Celery". Not the best title, but enough to make an otherwise burned-out CI loan guy let out a few chuckles.

"Oh wow," with a croaky voice, Molly took a sip of his coffee to clear his throat- giving a look. "...100k subscribers? You plan on using this as a backup in case you were fired, huh?"

The two laughed at that joke for a minute of two, not realizing...

"Hey, where's the rest?"