We all know who killed his rivals within G Corporation and eventually became CEO. This is a story about that man's rise to power and the lengths he would go to cover up his schemes and ambitions from the rest of the company until his plans come to fruition.

Though most of the story is from the perspective of an OC, there will also be chapters from Kazuya, Bruce, and Anna's POV.

Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think!

The hall was having a moment of silence, broken only by the occasional sob.

Five hundred G Corporation middle-management employees were seated in the auditorium. G Corporation's lecture auditorium was normally used for symposiums on cutting-edge biotechnology to keep employees current on the latest research in their fields, but today was different. A calamity needed to be addressed.

One of the human resources drones had asked them to tell their staff that everything was fine and that everyone could return to work without fear. No one was sure of that, but life had to continue.

Today we remember…

From the back rows, the podium on the stage and the speaker standing behind were nearly invisible, so the end of the silence was jarring. The speaker was giving a brief eulogy for some of the company's most well-known agents.

Tragedy… Coworkers and friends… Grief counselors available…

Two weeks earlier, just after the New Year, a series of explosions had ripped through G Corporation's administrative headquarters, the Millennium Tower in Munich, Germany, killing 90. They had detonated after normal business hours on a night when much of the tower's senior management were having meetings. Several employees working long hours had been in the building as well. Among the casualties were several lab workers, analysts, security, and many members of corporate leadership including the CEO. This company-wide address was the headquarters' first opening since the attack. Several of the labs and offices were still closed and being renovated, but the tower was deemed structurally sound and business could continue while repairs were made.

As much as the employees wanted to get back to their work, they appreciated the memorial service. But the barely-hidden indifference of everyone on stage did not go unnoticed.

Restructure…Rebuild…Rise from the ashes…

Behind the speaker sat what was left of the company leadership, called in from all over the world. After the address, there was to be a board meeting to determine the future of G. There was an urgency to regain some sense of normalcy. A new CEO had to be voted on, a new treasurer named, new legal and human resources leaders chosen. It was going to be a rocky transition for everyone. All the department heads would be moving upward, no one would have the same supervisor and project leads would have to bring the new managers up to speed on everything going on in the labs. That meant several days of no real work getting done.

The hierarchy at G Corporation, being such a large company with so many irons in the proverbial fire, had always been unorthodox. The board of directors included several of the members of upper management in each major research field the corporation dabbled in, titling them Directors of Research in their various fields and giving them executive-level powers. Before the attack, the board had consisted of fifteen members. Only seven now remained.

Among the surviving leadership, once voluntary test subject turned Director of Biochemical Research, and suddenly one of the most senior members of the board, Kazuya Mishima sat stoically, dressed in a black suit with a red shirt and black tie, with his head resting on his fist and one leg crossed over the other as the speaker went on. Everyone at G Corporation knew of Mishima, but no one knew much about him. In fact, all anyone really knew was that he single-handedly stopped an attack on the labs in Nebraska. Some hoped that he would stay on in Munich to tighten security through the whole company, certain that the incidents were linked and would be repeated.

As the speaker finished, people were shifting restlessly in their seats. However, as a final statement, he paused a moment and said, "I know these last few weeks have been hard. Still, we encourage you to stay positive. And remember, we're still under a complete media blackout. Direct anyone asking questions to Public Relations."

Everyone at G Corporation was used to media blackouts. The research under its umbrella was often highly sensitive and government contracts were a common happenstance. But regarding a bombing that was seen through the entire city? Anxiety floated in the air.

After an uncomfortable moment, people began to rise from their seats and walk out the doors. The building looked unfamiliar. Though most of the debris had been cleared from the open areas of the tower, outside the labs that were hit the hardest the walls were still charred, and dust wafted through the once pristine halls. Some were regretting coming back so soon to a workplace that still looked so ravaged. They had been given a choice, of course, but many of the projects undertaken at the main headquarters were time sensitive and they were already almost a month behind. If G employees were anything, they were dedicated.

The employees dispersed, ambling toward their work stations where they could. There were many places still roped off for being unsafe. The upper floors where the executive offices were held were still off limits, so many of the offices on the lower floors were shared or divided between administrators. Most of the labs had been untouched, but a few of the bombs were set off in labs on various floors. The surrounding labs were in various states of disarray, having been left untouched by the cleanup crews. Just one more thing to put them behind.

And so, G's employees got back to work. Everyone understood that what was important was putting the harrowing event behind them and getting back on schedule. The sooner that happened, the better.

One of the employees to have attended the address, Dr. Bera Lande was a Norwegian evolutionary biologist. She had moved to Munich 3 years earlier as a graduate of the University of Oslo with the promise of a job at G Corporation and quickly worked her way up from lab assistant. Her current position was as the head of a team studying genetic mutation; her current task to guide her team in assessing the damage to their laboratory and experiments. After she passed along what was said at the memorial and tucked her ash blonde hair into an untidy bun, they began by organizing the research notes scattered across the floor and moved from there.

Through the morning and most of the afternoon, Bera's team was busy cleaning up the remaining shrapnel and testing their equipment to make sure it was all still functional. Although their lab was right next to one of the ones bombed, most of their equipment was sound and their samples still locked away and sterile. Miraculously, only one machine had been directly hit by the blast; an automated pipettor which was now in pieces. A few other machines were damaged, but not beyond repair and most of them still worked just fine.

Periodically swiping dust from her sweater, she continued moving furniture around to make inspecting their equipment easier. Bera delegated various tasks to her team, eventually becoming annoyed that she had to keep telling them what needed to be done. The lab was in tatters. There was an endless list of self-apparent chores. She realized that some of them were still shaken by their first look at the damage to the lab and tried to be patient. She herself was having trouble keeping her breath, seeing the many grim reminders of that night.

Bera stood up from inspecting one of the lab refrigerators and stared apprehensively at the boarded-up window that used to peer into the lab next door. Bera had been working later than usual the night of the attack and was lucky to have only gotten some glass shards embedded in her arms and torso. Niels Møller, one of her lab aides, was with her that evening. He had been standing right next to that window and wasn't so lucky. He had been barely recognizable when Bera found him, after her senses had returned and the confusion from the explosion had died down. Her direct supervisor and chief of genetics research Dr. Helena Bruni had been on the other side. Like everyone else who had been in the room, her remains were never positively identified.

Bera felt tired. No matter how much she tried to bury her thoughts in work, she couldn't forget all the blood. She had dreams about it through the previous few weeks. It appeared to be cleaned up, but Bera wouldn't chance peering into the adjacent room. The blood was practically all she remembered from that evening other than the smoke and the feeling of the tower rocking two, three, four times as it became apparent that what was happening wasn't simply a lab accident. She hadn't even felt the glass in her skin until hours later when the adrenaline in her system abated and a paramedic noticed she was bleeding. Now the wounds were little more than pink marks in her skin, only a few leaving lasting scars.

Bera called her team together and told them to list off their findings.

As Bera's aides took turns running through their status checks, the door opened. Site Administrator Hans Ziggler walked in with all seven remaining members of the board of directors. The small lab became very tight and Bera was suddenly hyperaware of the state of her hair and that she was wearing a ratty old sweater and corduroy pants. Bera recognized most of them, as many of the directors were stationed in Munich. Aryan Tagore was Director of Pharmaceutical Research. Lindsey Marcus was Director of Engineering. Julian Hied was Director of Defense Development. Zhao Guìyīng was Director of Botanical Research. Bera didn't recognize the rest, other than Kazuya Mishima, who was currently the talk of the company.

It was strange to Bera that they had never met before. As Director of Biochemical Research, that put Bera and her colleagues studying mutation under his management. The rumor was that he never left the Nebraska facility because it was simply a housing for his personal pet projects. Before the Nebraska attack, no one knew who he was, and all research taking place in Nebraska was Need-to-Know, making Mishima even more of a curiosity.

Bera's aides stood behind her, none of them ever having been under the scrutiny of a gaggle of directors. Neither had Bera. This kind of gathering was unprecedented outside of the boardroom, as most of the directors preferred to meet with their section chiefs rather than deal with the nerds in the labs, so full-fledged inspections were few and far between.

"How is everyone doing? Are you all prepared to dig right back in?" Hans Ziggler raised a tablet to type on while the lab aides muttered responses. Bera resisted the urge to roll her eyes and answered aloud that they were all eager to get back to work.

"That's good, but," Ziggler coughed, "unfortunately the lab next door took heavy structural damage and the repairs are going to be more extensive than previously thought," Bera knew he meant that the outside wall was nothing more than a gaping hole and a few supports had been demolished, and wasn't sure how that kind of damage could be underestimated, "you won't be working in this room for a few weeks as the renovations are completed. Not just for the noise and the reverberations which would no doubt hinder working conditions, but we want to make sure you're all safe until the floor is reinforced."

Bera's assistants shuffled nervously and she heard a few sharp inhales.

"Don't worry about your deadlines," Ziggler continued, "we're going to relocate your staff to help other teams catch up while your lab is closed. Don't feel too badly. The rooms directly above you are also being closed for the duration of construction. Every department has been hit." Extended deadlines were always a relief, but no one was excited about being taken off their project, for any amount of time. Bera simply nodded. Her aides exchanged glances.

Thus far, the directors had made no attempt to pipe in and were standing patiently, waiting to be done here. Rather than listening to the conversation, Mishima leaned against the wall behind them all and seemed to be sizing up the aides and Bera herself. His expression was unreadable. Bera hadn't been uneasy until she noticed being analyzed. She made a conscious effort not to make eye contact with him. Bera realized that it had been quiet for a moment. Ziggler probably expected her to say something, but she was unable to respond. She tried to hide her apprehension a little better than the aides cowering behind her.

"But since you've taken the time to inspect the room, we can deal with that now," Ziggler broke the silence, "what's your lab's status, Dr. Lande? What needs to be replaced?"

"Only one machine needs replacing," she gestured to the offending pipettor, "when the lab opens again we can do without for a while, and our experiments won't be set back too much further. Everything else seems to be in order."

Ziggler nodded and was making notes on the tablet, clearly relieved. It was probably assumed that Bera's lab would be worse off, as the explosion next door was the largest of that night.

Ziggler then began marking off names as he made the teams' temporary assignments and told them all where to report. Bera was left last. Ziggler waited until the last aide was out of the room before addressing her.

"Bera," he hesitated, "there's no easy way to say this, but with Helena Bruni's and several other research officers' deaths, you're left as the most senior researcher in genetics."

Bera didn't move. Her eyebrow twitched. She was sure she didn't hear that right. Bera wasn't even chiefly a geneticist. Of all the leadership in her division, she couldn't be the only one left. But as she thought about it, she remembered a meeting taking place that night in the lab next door. They had all been there.

She could feel her face slackening. Before she could feel any sicker, she recollected herself. She hadn't seen the full list of casualties, and hadn't realized how heavy the damage to the company infrastructure. She clenched her jaw and lifted her eyes again, noticing that Mishima was now standing upright. He extended a hand to her. As if in a daze, she shook it.

"Congratulations on your meteoric rise, Dr. Lande," he said, "I've seen your thesis and your work since you've been with G, I anticipate you'll be a fitting section chief." Like all employees with English as a second or third language, like Bera herself, he spoke with an accent. Truly seeing his face for the first time, she was further unsettled. His face was scarred and his eyes were piercing. He looked more like a career criminal than a scientist.

"Thank you, Director," Bera gulped. Her abrupt promotion left her as Mishima's direct subordinate. Normally she would have done some more research into her superiors when elevating in rank, but this was the circumstance she was left with. As it stood, she knew nothing about him and that brought her to the edge of panic. She had nothing to say.

"This is all very sudden," Ziggler spoke softly, "but the trust Dr. Bruni placed in you makes me confident that you'll be just as effective a leader and you'll accomplish great things. This means, however, lab work won't be your primary concern. You'll be taking over Dr. Bruni's duties, advising and overseeing the research teams. I know how invested you are in your current project, but you're needed elsewhere now."

Bera finally felt like she could breathe again. "I appreciate your trust," she shook Ziggler's hand as well.

"Your next few days' challenge will be assessing each of your teams' progress and how long each will be behind schedule. Given the circumstances it can't be helped, but we do need something to tell the investors."

"I'll be meeting with you regularly for reports," Mishima nodded to Bera. She choked out a "yes, sir," before the directors started filing out of the room. A few, those she knew personally, stopped to congratulate her and give words of encouragement. Bera smiled warmly as they left, but when they were gone her face sank again.

She gathered her things and started making the rounds to her new staff.

She spent the rest of the afternoon running around the genetics labs in circles, called from one side of her floor to the other again and again to address problems, advise teams on their immediate plans, and soothe the odd nervous breakdown. Pressure wasn't anything new to most of G's employees, but the emotional tension on the first day back to work after what had been labelled an act of terrorism was considerable. Bera herself felt on the verge of her own meltdown when she saw Mishima stalking the hall toward her with a deliberate stride. He was the one person she hadn't wanted to see just then. She swallowed hard and forced herself to smile at him.

"Doctor," he nodded in acknowledgment and walked on by. She was relieved that he didn't seem to want to talk. His presence was intimidating to say the least, and she was already on edge. She made sure he wasn't about to turn around and watched him for a moment. He was familiarizing himself with the department layout without going out of his way to speak to anyone. She thought she should at least offer to show him around, but he seemed to know where he was going, and the pit nestling itself snugly in her stomach gave her pause. He would be fine on his own. Bera hurried to her destination before she chanced crossing paths with him again.

That evening, Bera was more than ready to go home. She dragged her feet as she left the building, but fresh air perked her up again. It was cold, typical of late January, but Bera's home was only a few hundred miles from the arctic and this weather relaxed her. At this time of year, she preferred to walk the city streets to her apartment, just over a mile away.

It was dark outside and cloudy, but the city lights turned the sky a pinkish purple and it looked like snow would be coming soon. That was fine with Bera.

The decision to build G Corporation's European site in Munich was a purely economic one, joining such industry leaders as BMW and the Max Planck Society in choosing this city as their administrative capital. Munich was simply one of the most prosperous financial centres in Europe with a large, international populace to employ from.

Munich was a city of nearly 2 million people, but it still had a rural, village-like atmosphere. It was very like her much smaller hometown of Trondheim. Tall corporate towers rose into the sky not far from the town's medieval churches and neoclassical mansions and state buildings. The city was a thousand years old, and every part of its history was represented in its architecture. Not only that, but the city was nestled in the foothills of the Alps, with stunning views all throughout the city of snow-covered mountaintops and glacial lakes. Bera often spent weekends hiking or exploring the area. It hadn't taken long for her to find things to love about her new home after moving there right out of university.

From the Millennium Tower, Bera had to walk past a few other skyscrapers before she came to the more understated city center. She would continue to walk past mansions and high-end businesses for several blocks before reaching the more classical downtown. Soon after she'd find herself in the historic center and be close to home.

Ten minutes into her walk she heard someone calling to her from behind. Turning, she saw a short, thin woman with curly golden-blonde hair jogging up to her; Birgit Kruse, a Danish lab assistant. Birgit was still working on her thesis and was technically an intern. She worked in the botany department so Bera rarely crossed paths with her, but having another Scandinavian around was comforting.

"You're out quite late at night, missy, where is your chaperone?" Bera smiled at Birgit as she caught up. Birgit was one of the youngest in the labs and was teased for it incessantly.

Boasting some of the greatest scientific minds from all over the world, G Corporation policy at the company headquarters was that employees speak to each other in English or German at work, but it wasn't uncommon to hear one of a dozen other languages in the common areas. Bera and Birgit spoke to each other in Norwegian and Danish respectively. The languages were similar enough that they could understand one another, and both appreciated having someone to speak their native tongue with.

"Well I thought it would be you seeing as we're walking the same way, but you left without me!" Birgit often rode the bus, but she knew when it was cold outside, Bera walked, and she tried to join her when she could. "So much for Nordic Sisterhood. Tell me, big sister, how did you fare your first day back? Because my day was hell."

To answer, Bera let out a small laugh that quickly turned into a groan.

"This whole thing is crazy," Birgit was fishing around in her backpack for lip balm and frowning, "Our department was barely affected by the bombing, but it's like we're a tiny bit off target, not that we can help it, and everyone loses their goddamn mind. No one knew where to start today. Dr. Zhao is usually so chill, but he was chewing people's heads off."

"I can't imagine anyone we work with has experienced this kind of thing before," Bera reasoned, "there was bound to be some chaos."

"That reminds me, I heard that congratulations are in order," Birgit warbled as she applied her lip balm, "what's it like being head geek?" The lab workers often used derogatory terms to refer to their station, a tongue-in-cheek gesture of solidarity.

"Well I'm not celebrating, biochemistry was absolutely gutted," Bera said flatly, "we lost as much as a third of our people in the blast, hence my promotion." Birgit's eyes went wide, and she stared ahead for a moment before going on.

"I didn't know it was that bad. I heard a bunch of managers were gone. Are you missing hands? Do you need people? Can you transfer me to your team? And who's the scary new boss man, he's from your department, right?"

Bera laughed.

"Yes, we're short-staffed, I don't think so considering that your experience is in agriculture, and yes, Mishima is my boss."

"What's he like? All he did when the directors were in the botany labs was scowl." Birgit put on her most dramatic frown which they both giggled at.

"I don't know," Bera shrugged, "he barely said a word to me before they left our floor, he doesn't seem to say much at all."

"Well he dresses better than the others. No one wears fashionable suits around here but Hans. You could almost forget this was a damn multinational corporation," Birgit was trailing off into a rant now, and her language often got fouler when she was agitated, "I mean a little more professionalism from the management finally is great, but why does he have to be so mean looking? How can he wear such flashy colors and still look so mean? Why are his shoes so spotless? What the hell is up with his hair? Did he go to the hairdresser and ask for the 'onion cut?' His jawline is so sharp you could cut steel on it. Come to think of it, he's actually kind of good looking…"

"You had quite some time to study him," Bera said, amused.

"And," Birgit went on wildly as if Bera hadn't spoke, "And, what kind of biology nerd looks like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like…like a fucking Olympian!" Birgit burst out, "Did you see the size of his neck?" Her hands were out in front of her, wrapped around a space she thought was the right size. "His shoulders are like a brick wall! He has scars too. I'll bet he used to wrestle bears or something. How does one become a scholar of the physical sciences from professionally harassing wildlife?"

Bera snorted, but after a moment she frowned. She hadn't even registered it at the time, but looking back on that afternoon, the reason she was barely able to choke out three words to Mishima was indeed his daunting size. It probably also had something to do with the scowl. She could recognize Birgit's frenzied but vivid points about his appearance now. She thought on it for a minute.

"I'm sure he's not actually all that mean, he probably just doesn't talk much and doesn't… really …smile…" Bera wasn't doing a good job of making her point, but she put a hand on Birgit's arm as if to say 'chill out,' and she thought about his frame, "and just because he spends more time in a gym than none at all, unlike the rest of our male colleagues, that doesn't make it something to freak out over. Just don't look at him."

"How can you not look at him when he's the biggest person in the building?" Birgit huffed, "eight thousand people work in that building, all of whom he could probably bench press in pairs."

"Why are you so worked up about it? He's my boss, you'll rarely, if ever, even be on the same floor."

"Promise me you'll tell me if he's cruel to you," Birgit pouted.

"Why would he be mean to me and what are you going to do about it if he is?" Bera's voice was flat.

Birgit side-eyed her slyly.

"Right. You are a goody-two-shoes overachiever."

"Birgit, my dear," Bera wrapped an arm around her companion's shoulders, "learn well from me, make good use of your time at G, and you, too, could one day have an illustrious position you're unprepared for under a terrifying and unfamiliar superior. And if you're lucky, he'll be just as impeccably dressed so you always feel like you should have tried just a little harder that morning."

Birgit's arm snaked around Bera's back as well and she squeezed.

"You'll be fine. Who could ever be mad at this face?" Birgit pinched her cheek and they laughed.

They walked on, continuing to gossip down the street until Birgit had to turn down a different route. They waved goodbye and went their separate ways.