Deebolution
Yes, I know it's actually spelled devolution.
As dusk descended over downtown, noise and bustle filled the air. Car engines, a police siren, people along the sidewalks, all of them a river flowing along the streets. Each one had somewhere to be, including one man dressed in a cheap suit and sweating through every fiber of it. The man was almost notable in his mediocrity, a work-a-day drone pushing through the doors of a nondescript high-rise nestled amongst the others. He was here to deliver an unhappy message. Only the knowledge of what would happen if he failed to do so kept his feet moving. When he got in the elevator, he punched the key for the main office. Head of Operations. The big boss. The lift's movement took him down, not up. Down, down, impossibly far into the earth.
Metal doors slid open to a room that resembled a grand hall more than an executive's office. Darkness dominated the space with oases of light highlighting sitting spaces or artwork. There was technically a receptionist, but one could see straight to the back of the office unobstructed. There rested an extravagant ebony desk and in the high-backed chair behind it sat a man as sharp and menacing as a blade. The motif on the wall depicted a massive three-headed canine with snarling jaws. His hair was an ashen grey only marginally darker than his pale skin, slicked back neatly. Chiseled angles dominated that face, framing a pair of steely eyes that pierced the soul. If any man could be said to have invented brooding, it was this one. Those eyes followed the sweaty man as he stepped hesitantly out of the elevator and shuffled his feet.
"This must be important. Come forward and speak." The voice was not loud, but it carried to the end of the room with the weight of command. The sweaty one obeyed, scurrying up to the boss's desk.
"B-Bad news, sir," he stammered. "I-I-It's the biotech firm on 8th and Boulder Street, Futura. They're...resisting."
The boss fixed his lackey with an iron stare, saying nothing while the man fidgeted with discomfort.
"Is that so? Such a pity. It seems they're in need of a reminder who really controls the flow of riches." He stood from his chair and walked with a strong gait toward the elevator.
"Ms. Erin, pull up the information for Futura's Chief Financial Officer and forward it to my personal phone. Also, have two of our enforcers meet me out front. I'm going to handle some business."
"Right away, sir," the receptionist replied coolly. Without another word, he stepped into the lift, leaving the nervous minion watching from his office. The doors closed and Hades rose to the surface.
Metal doors slid open to a room that resembled a grand hall more than an executive's office. Darkness dominated the space with oases of light highlighting sitting spaces or artwork. There was technically a receptionist, but one could see straight to the back of the office unobstructed. There rested an extravagant ebony desk and in the high-backed chair behind it sat a man as sharp and menacing as a blade. The motif on the wall depicted a massive three-headed canine with snarling jaws. His hair was an ashen grey only marginally darker than his pale skin, slicked back neatly. Chiseled angles dominated that face, framing a pair of steely eyes that pierced the soul. If any man could be said to have invented brooding, it was this one. Those eyes followed the sweaty man as he stepped hesitantly out of the elevator and shuffled his feet.
"This must be important. Come forward and speak." The voice was not loud, but it carried to the end of the room with the weight of command. The sweaty one obeyed, scurrying up to the boss's desk.
"B-Bad news, sir," he stammered. "I-I-It's the biotech firm on 8th and Boulder Street, Futura. They're...resisting."
The boss fixed his lackey with an iron stare, saying nothing while the man fidgeted with discomfort.
"Is that so? Such a pity. It seems they're in need of a reminder who really controls the flow of riches." He stood from his chair and walked with a strong gait toward the elevator.
"Ms. Erin, pull up the information for Futura's Chief Financial Officer and forward it to my personal phone. Also, have two of our enforcers meet me out front. I'm going to handle some business."
"Right away, sir," the receptionist replied coolly. Without another word, he stepped into the lift, leaving the nervous minion watching from his office. The doors closed and Hades rose to the surface.
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