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Drake Milton rolled his powerfully built shoulders and adjusted his blood red tie just a touch while he rode the elevator down.
The trip always amused him, mainly because of the indicator which showed his "floor" above the elevator's indicator panel.
L... B1... B2... B3... B4... 1C... 2C... 3C... 4C... 5C... 6C... 7C... 8C... ∞.
"Arrived, Plane of Treachery," the sweet and oddly seductive-sounding computerized voice in the elevator cabin said. Drake raised an eyebrow. That was new. Had the CEO made a decision to have the Pleasure Department record that? It struck him as a suitable enough possibility for his wandering mind while he stepped outside the elevator into the completely frozen-over realm that was the Executive Office. He looked himself over one final time with scarlet eyes to ensure that his garb was spotless. For a mere second-tier operative as himself, coming down here was both a nice change, he reflected as a gust of air impacted his face, and a guaranteed-to-be massive case of the nerves. Stories of operatives who had displeased the CEO in his presence enough to be frozen solid into the walls down here like the rest and left for all eternity were widely present at Pleasure Department water coolers. Everyone in his own Office of Seduction and Corruption within the Department figured they were only stories. What good did it do to dispense with perfectly productive employees in such a fashion? The CEO wasn't an evil man, he just had a job to do like everyone else. And far as Drake could see as he proceeded down the equivalent of an ice cavern toward the Executive Office's private suite, there were no signs of anything that was frozen which definitely shouldn't be.
Drake felt an air of reassurance fall over him and then begin to dissipate as he approached the door. It was time. He gripped the handle, which flashed red and then blue at his touch, and opened it. That was when his eyes widened. Gone was any sign of the ice cavern, instead replaced by a massive balcony leading out over... Manhattan Island? That didn't make any sense. Why would the CEO have his office out in the open air at a place like... well whatever. He took a look around his surroundings. The balcony, to which the door had clearly teleported him to, was seemingly on the roof of a large structure. There were no walls and it was exposed to the open air, which was somewhat disorienting against the New York Cityscape. On either side were run-off fountains which, using a mechanism that probably employed DevilTech to a certain degree, Drake thought, allowed water to run off the sides as if into nothingness before returning it to whence it came. At the end was only a very simple desk, and there sat the CEO. As the "man" was perhaps the single most powerful being who still retained any interest in the mortal plane, it was quite an experience to finally meet him. Drake earnestly hoped that the encounter would not proved to be fatal. The CEO diverted his attention from where it had previously been focused and smiled. "Ah, Drake! Drake my man, thank you for coming! Sit, sit, please!"
Drake rather hurriedly, showing a lack of his almost iron-composure took one of the plush red chairs positioned in front of the desk. "Excellent!" He then offered his hand. "What a pleasure to meet S&C's up-and-comer at last!" The CEO moved his hands in a brief rotating maneuver that was akin to playful mock-boxing. Was that his way of showing that he was impressed? "I've been following you quite closely, Drake! I'm certain you're my guy... and the thing about me is, on these things, I'm usually right!" He smiled broadly.
"I'm sorry, sir, your guy for what?" Drake shot out the challenge before even thinking. Oh shit. Had he just committed the worst (and all things considered, probably last) faux pas of his career?
"Right to the point! I like that." Drake gave a small smile. Okay, so maybe that was a good sign. The CEO folded his hands behind his back and turned to stare out at the city. "Ahh... but will you look at 'em all. Each and every single one going about his or daily life when they could be the person who swings things in my favor once and for all. And yet they just follow the system like good little worker bees. Sure we need worker bees, just ask S&M!" The CEO, Drake realized, was referring to the (relatively) pacifically-named Department of Supervision and Management, who were "upstairs" relative to the location Drake had just come from. "But here, on the mortal plane, they all do it. Let themselves be enslaved by money and structure one after the other. Well, all of 'em, save a few. One of those few is why I've brought'cha down here today." He turned and pinned his right hands' fingertips on a common manila folder, then flipped it open. The pages were blank but an image of a highly attractive and sophisticated-looking woman was burned into his mind. Without knowing any better, Drake would figure her for one of his co-workers, but he knew everyone at the Office... quite well, actually, as S&C policy mandated operatives regularly practice the abilities which defined their purpose on one another. But it became clear that the image was of a mortal human. Interesting.
"Meet Clair Louise Winton, candidate for United States Senate right here in the great state'a New York!" The CEO was obviously quite proud of the mortal realm and the accent of which he chose to mimic. "I'll keep it simple son, you've got a new job, as her new Special Campaign Advisor. You're gonna help her win, and though she don't know it, she's gonna help us, while also helping out her constituents in ways that I'd like to help them! It's what I like to call a win-win-win, see?"
Drake smiled and slowly began to nod his head.
The trip always amused him, mainly because of the indicator which showed his "floor" above the elevator's indicator panel.
L... B1... B2... B3... B4... 1C... 2C... 3C... 4C... 5C... 6C... 7C... 8C... ∞.
"Arrived, Plane of Treachery," the sweet and oddly seductive-sounding computerized voice in the elevator cabin said. Drake raised an eyebrow. That was new. Had the CEO made a decision to have the Pleasure Department record that? It struck him as a suitable enough possibility for his wandering mind while he stepped outside the elevator into the completely frozen-over realm that was the Executive Office. He looked himself over one final time with scarlet eyes to ensure that his garb was spotless. For a mere second-tier operative as himself, coming down here was both a nice change, he reflected as a gust of air impacted his face, and a guaranteed-to-be massive case of the nerves. Stories of operatives who had displeased the CEO in his presence enough to be frozen solid into the walls down here like the rest and left for all eternity were widely present at Pleasure Department water coolers. Everyone in his own Office of Seduction and Corruption within the Department figured they were only stories. What good did it do to dispense with perfectly productive employees in such a fashion? The CEO wasn't an evil man, he just had a job to do like everyone else. And far as Drake could see as he proceeded down the equivalent of an ice cavern toward the Executive Office's private suite, there were no signs of anything that was frozen which definitely shouldn't be.
Drake felt an air of reassurance fall over him and then begin to dissipate as he approached the door. It was time. He gripped the handle, which flashed red and then blue at his touch, and opened it. That was when his eyes widened. Gone was any sign of the ice cavern, instead replaced by a massive balcony leading out over... Manhattan Island? That didn't make any sense. Why would the CEO have his office out in the open air at a place like... well whatever. He took a look around his surroundings. The balcony, to which the door had clearly teleported him to, was seemingly on the roof of a large structure. There were no walls and it was exposed to the open air, which was somewhat disorienting against the New York Cityscape. On either side were run-off fountains which, using a mechanism that probably employed DevilTech to a certain degree, Drake thought, allowed water to run off the sides as if into nothingness before returning it to whence it came. At the end was only a very simple desk, and there sat the CEO. As the "man" was perhaps the single most powerful being who still retained any interest in the mortal plane, it was quite an experience to finally meet him. Drake earnestly hoped that the encounter would not proved to be fatal. The CEO diverted his attention from where it had previously been focused and smiled. "Ah, Drake! Drake my man, thank you for coming! Sit, sit, please!"
Drake rather hurriedly, showing a lack of his almost iron-composure took one of the plush red chairs positioned in front of the desk. "Excellent!" He then offered his hand. "What a pleasure to meet S&C's up-and-comer at last!" The CEO moved his hands in a brief rotating maneuver that was akin to playful mock-boxing. Was that his way of showing that he was impressed? "I've been following you quite closely, Drake! I'm certain you're my guy... and the thing about me is, on these things, I'm usually right!" He smiled broadly.
"I'm sorry, sir, your guy for what?" Drake shot out the challenge before even thinking. Oh shit. Had he just committed the worst (and all things considered, probably last) faux pas of his career?
"Right to the point! I like that." Drake gave a small smile. Okay, so maybe that was a good sign. The CEO folded his hands behind his back and turned to stare out at the city. "Ahh... but will you look at 'em all. Each and every single one going about his or daily life when they could be the person who swings things in my favor once and for all. And yet they just follow the system like good little worker bees. Sure we need worker bees, just ask S&M!" The CEO, Drake realized, was referring to the (relatively) pacifically-named Department of Supervision and Management, who were "upstairs" relative to the location Drake had just come from. "But here, on the mortal plane, they all do it. Let themselves be enslaved by money and structure one after the other. Well, all of 'em, save a few. One of those few is why I've brought'cha down here today." He turned and pinned his right hands' fingertips on a common manila folder, then flipped it open. The pages were blank but an image of a highly attractive and sophisticated-looking woman was burned into his mind. Without knowing any better, Drake would figure her for one of his co-workers, but he knew everyone at the Office... quite well, actually, as S&C policy mandated operatives regularly practice the abilities which defined their purpose on one another. But it became clear that the image was of a mortal human. Interesting.
"Meet Clair Louise Winton, candidate for United States Senate right here in the great state'a New York!" The CEO was obviously quite proud of the mortal realm and the accent of which he chose to mimic. "I'll keep it simple son, you've got a new job, as her new Special Campaign Advisor. You're gonna help her win, and though she don't know it, she's gonna help us, while also helping out her constituents in ways that I'd like to help them! It's what I like to call a win-win-win, see?"
Drake smiled and slowly began to nod his head.
