Definition
1 : of lower or secondary class or rank : subordinate, subsidiary
2 : providing additional help or support : auxiliary, supplementary
Ancillary derives from the English word ancilla, a rare word that means "an aid to achieving or mastering something difficult." That word derives from Latin, in which it means "female servant." While English ancilla is unlikely to be encountered except in very specialized contexts (such as philosophy or quantum computing), ancillary picks up on the notion of providing aid or support in a way that supplements something else. In particular, the word often describes something that is in a position of secondary importance, such as the "ancillary products in a company's line."
The Head of Marketing and Customer Relations, one of the highest grossing earners of the company (a reward which, in my opinion having worked for him for the past three months, was rather undeserved and should have, at the very least, been passed on to his extremely competent and extremely underpaid marketing team. But no one asked for my opinion and thus his well funded, tyrannical reign continued), was currently cowering under his desk. I am not such a good person that I am able to deny the fact that the sight of his arse, peeking out from the side of his desk where he hadn't concealed himself properly, quivering with terror, warmed the cockles of my heart.
I closed the office door behind me carefully, thereby shutting out the sound of gunshots and the wails of his fellow managers and strolled over to the desk with his usual morning requirement.
"Your coffee sir," I said brightly (but not too brightly. He'd once snarled at me for being 'too goddamn chirpy and over familiar.' I was not too get too chummy with him for Christ's sake, i was his employee, not his friend (I suspected his blind date had not gone well the night before). Another time, when I had been feeling under the weather, he had sniped at me for being too gloomy and bringing the mood of the office down. I now had my morning tone down to an art - and specifically tailored to whatever had happened to him the night before. Since he always sent me unreasonable demands whatever the hour, it was usually easy to get a good idea of what his mood would be the following day.)
Of course, today being what it was, it was a good bet that my 'bright' tone was entirely inappropriate for the current situation.
But gosh darn it, I just couldn't help myself.
"It's a double shot mocha with two pumps of caramel and chocolate sprinkles on top." I added. "Your favourite."
I put it on top of the desk and waited.
My boss slowly backed out from under the desk and shot me a look of horror. "Are you out of your mind?" He hoarsely whispered.
"Coffee! In this situation. Coffee!" He shrieked.
I put my finger against my lips. "Sir, I think you should moderate your tone. They haven't gotten as far as here yet but we don't want to alert them to your presence. They seem to be targeting those in managerial position and the higher ups. I think you would be an ideal target for them."
He shut up. This was fast becoming my favourite day in the office ever.
Too bad his silence didn't last long.
"How did you even get this?" He demanded, pointing at his coffee.
"I went out and got it like I usually do sir." I said absently. I was paying attention to the gunshot outside - gunshots that I could now hear through the door. They'd gotten close.
As much as I didn't like my boss, I didn't want him dead. Most days anyway. And if anyone was going to have the pleasure of ending his life, it was going to me. I had a whole list of possible murder and body disposals I'd dreamt up and I would not let whoever was going on a (probably well deserved judging by how they were only going after management) rampage right now. Sorry, just not happening.
He was muttering something about airhead secretaries getting coffee in this sort of situation and not calling the authorities (of course I called the police as soon as I heard the first gunshot - they just didn't appear to be doing anything. The shooters had an entire building of hostages for a start. It's not like they could just run in and start shooting - they'd hurt the employees and the collateral damage would be massive. Not that my boss seemed to care. I'd managed to grab everyone I could on the way out for coffee so I knew that none of our team were left (apart from my boss) and any one I came across on the way down, I also evacuated. But this was a large building and I had no idea who was still in here, hiding in the loo and their offices - and if I had no idea, the police had no chance.)
"Sir, we have to go now." I said, bluntly interrupting his mumbled tirade. "They're getting too close and your office is going to be the first place they look for you."
He paled. "Out, out there, with the guns?"
"Out there away from the guns." I said firmly, hauling him up by his arm, dragging him away from the desk. "Quickly now."
Our luck held until he got too cocky and wanted to take the lift rather than the back emergency staircase. Apparently yesterday was 'leg day' at the gym. Ha! The gym. The man ordered takeout and then spent five hours binge watching Orange is the New Black - probably so he could pick up managerial tips from the prison wardens.
We ran right into one of the shooters. We rounded the corner, the boss in front, dragging me forward and I tried to yank him back, and there he was, right in the middle of reloading.
There was a millisecond of horrified shock on all sides. Then I sprung forward, shocking the boss down behind me, grabbing for the holster at the small of my back and whipping out my telescopic baton.
My electrified, telescopic baton.
Just as I had in practice, a hundred, a thousand, a million times over and over, it smoothly slid out to its full length, the small whine letting me know the rod already charging.
I lunged forward, head body shot, knee, spin, leg, body shot, back of the head. He didn't even get a chance to defend himself.
The shooter lay crumpled on the floor and I chucked his gun and ammunition into different rooms. It wound;t slow him down much but i'd take all I could get.
I spun round and grabbed the arm of my boss, who was just gaping at me.
"Move. Now." I hissed at him. "If there's one here, there are going to be more nearby. Plus people don't stay unconscious for that long so he'll wake up soon."
"Couldn't you, I don't know, hit him harder?"
I shot him a look. "I'm not risking giving someone permanent brain damage if i don't need to."
"But-"
"We need to get to the stairs. Move."
"But-"
"Move."
He moved.
He didn't say anything until we'd cut across to the second staircase. Apparently, not many people studied the architectural plans of a building before they started working in it. I did - and I discovered several little gems that the designer must have put in as safety measures but they had been disused for so that that only myself and the cleaning and engineer staff seemed to use them, every one else seemed to have forgotten that they existed. Which made them perfect for escaping people armed with grudges and guns.
"Why are there so many stairs?" He gasped.
"You were the one who wanted the office near the top floor." I snapped back.
We carried on running (well, more like a fast kind of bounce) down the stairs
"How did you know how to do that?" He eventually asked the question I'd been waiting for.
"Do what?"
"With the stick. Where did you even get that?Is it legal?"
"It's legal if you have proper training and authorisaton." The electronic part of it wasn't but I'd keep that bit quiet. "It was a perk from my last job and I've been training with it for about seven years or so."
Or rather, much longer than that. My dad was a martial arts fanatic and he took the view that a woman, in this or any other time, could never have enough methods to defend themselves with.
Not that I felt like sharing that particular tidbit with my boss.
"So why are you working here if you're trained in that?" He asked, baffled.
I snorted. "You may not have realised sir, that in this economic downturn, most people will take the work they can get, regardless of whether it's what they want to do or not." I paused. "Or perhaps you are aware of it, seeing the way you treat your staff."
He bristled. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, that you treat your staff like shit. If any of those people had a choice, they'd tell you to stick your shitty attitude where the sun doesn't shine and quit. But they can't - they're trapped. Which you know and instead of supporting them, you delight in making their life hell for no other reason than that you can. You're a mean, arrogant bully."
Ah, that felt good. I mean, yeah it was probably going to get me fired but with, I suspected, most of the managerial staff being shot and either dead or incapacitated, the company was bound to go under so if I was going to be jobless either way, I might as well get some stuff off my chest.
He spluttered. "I was not bullying! That was, that was just tough love. You need to build character to survive in this cut throat world."
I scoffed. "Sure. Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. But remember, perhaps if you and your management cronies had deigned to look after your staff properly, then perhaps we wouldn't currently be running from angry ex-employees with guns."
He blanched. "they're, they're our - they used to work for us?"
I nodded. "I saw people who were current employees too." I said cheerfully, his expression of horror making me feel almost gleeful. Jesus, I really needed to find a new job before this one completely warped me. "I'm guessing that's how they managed to get in. Apparently everyone's going for broke."
The sound of gunfire from far above suddenly filled the stair well. I glanced up. I couldn't see anyone...yet.
"Time to start running." I said. "We've got another six flights to got before we need to switch staircases and we don't want to be trapped here with them. We'll be the literally fish in a barrel."
"How long til we're out of the building." My boss gasped.
"One more staircase after this. We have to cross a floor so we'll need to be careful, but they seem to be going up floor by floor so hopefully they'll have already cleared that one and we shouldn't run into anyone. Then it's another five flights and we should be home free."
I glanced at him. His face looked awful and I had no idea if he could keep up with this kind of pace. I glanced up. No sign of the shooters yet - maybe I'd just heard them through an open door and they weren't on the staircase, or maybe they were and stealthily catching up with us. Since I was helping one of their targets, I wasn't sure if the 'no shooting of innocent bystanders' rule they seemed to employ would apply to me.
Was this scumbag really worth dying for?
Something of my thoughts must have shown on my face. "Please don't leave me." He begged.
The sensible thing would be to abandon him. He'd probably be alright by himself. Right?
He didn't know where the safe exits were and he couldn't defend himself against a wet tissue, let alone a gun. If I left him here, it would be the same as if i killed him myself.
I didn't like my boss but I wasn't about to let myself become a murderer because of him.
I sighed. "Keep close." I snapped at him. "And no bitching."
"NO, no of course not, thank you."
Ick, that felt weird and cringy.
"And be nicer to your staff." I added cause, well, might as well.
We'd reached the bottom of the stair case. I cracked the door open and glanced about. I couldn't see anyone, yet. The next door was on the far side of the room.
I crouched down and he followed suit. "Now, we're going to go through this door very, very quietly and carefully. Judging by the bloodstains they've already been through here but I don't know if they'e left anyone behind.So - quiet and careful, ok?"
He nodded.
"Good." I paused. In for a penny, in for a pound. "And I damn well better get a raise after all this."
We went through the door.
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