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"This means someone is talking."
'This means someone is thinking to themselves.'
This means it's a flashback.
*This means it's a sound effect!*
{This means I'm speaking in a different language!}
Angel in a Gilded Cage
The United States of America, Northern California, Silicon Valley. Even before the advent of quirks, the region was renowned as a nest of technological innovation from across the globe. Thousands of hopeful inventors and industrialists flocked to the glass and steel cities in hopes of becoming the next big thing, programs in their laptops and blueprints in hand.
On the outer reaches of the valley nestled in the mountains was a massive industrial compound. Protected by a massive metal wall, the complex was a small city in of itself, filled to the brim with long warehouses and factories with spiraling chimney stacks. Oddly enough, if one were to approach from the air they would notice that the buildings were arranged into a shape resembling the letter H.
Most impressively of all, at the centre of the complex was a colossal skyscraper. More than one hundred stories tall, this towering construct shone in the setting sun like a beacon, the rays reflecting off it's bright yellow exterior as it's top poked out from among the clouds. It was truly a testament to man's desire to defy their limits as they reached for the heavens.
Emblazoned on the side facing civilization was a neon logo of a single word.
Hyperion.
Within this titanic icon of industry, the executive elevator was quickly rising. Higher and higher it rose, passing floors dozens at a time, carrying its sole occupant to the sky.
A thin, wiry man dressed in a tight black and red pinstripe suit stood in the centre of the moving platform, his gaze fixed on the door and ignoring the blurred landscape outside the windows. One hand held his tablet under his armpit while the other stroked his perfectly straight, lurid, dark orange tie.
Finally, the elevator gradually slowed and came to a stop, the doors opening with a light chime.
Jeffery Damien Blake, more commonly known as Mr. Blake, stepped off the elevator and into the long hallway. His shoes clicked off the smooth, immaculate floor as he made his way past the many rows of cubicles, all occupied by tired and listless interns typing away at their computers.
All of these poor souls likely joined thinking they would be granted the opportunity to foster the next greatest product or device to the world, only for their dreams to be shattered as they were metaphorically shackled to their stations.
He glanced out of the corner of his eye, spying one particular middle-aged man looking like he was on the brink of falling asleep, his head nodding before picking himself up again, all the while his fingers continued to move.
He used to be one of them. A long time ago when he wore a younger man's clothes, he found himself behind a desk, receiving, filing and sending documents and forms to different parts of the company, endlessly.
But unlike most of these pawns who would never see a pay raise, he learned within the first month what the corporate career took in order to succeed. Some say it was hard work and dedication, others, your soul.
The correct answer? All of those things.
As long as they weren't yours.
His first accolade was being awarded the supervisor position of his division, coincidentally when the previous one suffered from a bad case of food poisoning on the day of the monthly employee assessment.
Two weeks later, a project lead position was opened in research and development after a freak accident involving the current lead and a runaway cleaning droid.
Time went on and in a series of bizarre twists of fortune, he had shot up the corporate ladder. By the age of thirty-six, he had earned himself a seat on the board of directors. He had started at the bottom and worked his way to the top of the mountain, second only to the CEO and the vice president.
Now when he looked down upon the legions of sharply dressed peons, he felt not sympathy, nor disgust. In fact, he felt nothing. It was a dog eat dog world, a twisted reality where in order to succeed, you needed to look out for number one. Yourself.
In a way, that was probably where his respect for the current CEO came from. Almost a decade ago, a low level executive in the company began to make strange and unorthodox predictions on the global market. At first, everyone laughed him off. Then one by one, each of his predictions came true. His supposed investments raked in profits by the metric tonne. Followed up with brilliant inventions and programs out of the blue, the man gained significant political sway in the company's power structure. With his newly attained wealth, he bought out almost all of the shares from the board of directors, most of which sold them to him out of fear of his uncanny fortune and ability to make all of his predictions come true, while the others resigned or disappeared under mysterious circumstances.
It all came to a head, when the former CEO of Hyperion, Harold Tassiter, was found dead one morning, having slipped and broken his neck in the shower of his executive suite.
With no one else to contest him, the man became the new face of the corporation and in a stroke of luck of being the only board member who had stayed around, Blake became the new vice-president.
It was also the first time Blake ever decided that perhaps he should settle for what he had. There was no way that he could even consider trying to replace his boss. The man was smart, charismatic, but most of all, he was ambitious. Every time he finished a profitable business venture, he was already getting started on the next big thing. He steamrolled over any competition and held his cards close to the chest, not a single weakness appearing in his armor.
In the corporate world, he was immortal.
So Blake changed his strategy. He would become the immortal man's right hand man. He did as he always did(minus the scheming). He never complained, never questioned his orders or even spoke out. He just did what was asked of him and he got it done.
It was the right call. He was the second in command of one of the most renowned and profitable support tech companies in the world. For a few years afterwards, everything was perfect.
That all changed seven months ago when there was a sudden unexplained and uninstigated attack on the company grounds! It cost Hyperion millions of dollars in damages! But the real injury was the loss of an important company asset, an important piece to a classified project of the CEO's that only Blake and a chosen few associates were even privy to. He didn't know the exact details of his employer's secret project or the concerned asset, the only thing Blake was concerned with was the fallout.
If one thought the ice was thin when working under the current CEO before, it only became infinitely more fragile after the incident. He became truly unforgiving of the smallest of failures or annoyances, anyone who drew his ire seemed to vanish with nary a trace.
Blake walked up to the door leading the executive office, getting a shaky nod from the nervous female secretary who buzzed him in.
She was the third this month alone.
Ever since then, it'd be considered suicide to approach the CEO due to his current, shortened temper.
But much like his employer, Blake was a man of focus. He knew exactly what buttons to push and how to remain a useful tool for him.
He clutched his tablet under his arm securely, it's contents being his sole ticket back into his employer's good graces.
He reached the end of the second long hallway, to which the doors automatically opened and entered the executive office, if you could call it that.
Most would relate it more to a throne room, a single walkway in the middle of two fountains, a massive marble bust of the owner in each of them, meeting each other's aloof, yet imperious gaze. The walkway led to a large island, on the left was a case full of "trophies", to the right, a luxurious lounging area complete with a leather couch, bookshelf and a bar. In the centre up a small flight of stairs on a raised dais was a massive redwood desk, covered with a layer of velvet and various files and baubles. Behind the desk was a tall-backed swivel chair made of golden fabric, it's occupant currently pointed to the wide office windows which gave a view of the world above the clouds, the masses of vapour shining bright orange in the evening sun. Holoscreens moved about on the flawless glass, showing various technical readouts and diagrams in a cascade of information.
Blake stopped before the desk, silently waiting to be called.
"Jimmy." His employer spoke in a low tone that held little patience. "You better have a good reason to be bothering me right now."
"Of course sir. I just found a news story on the internet that you may find... interesting." He said, ignoring his employer's complete disregard for trying to remember his name.
"It better." The man replied, silently giving permission to use his holoscreen.
Blake's fingers danced across his tablet's surface, establishing a connection with the holoscreen, preparing and uploading the file all in seconds. The next moment, the glass displayed a news article dating four days prior, translated three days prior, containing a still image of a group of brightly costumed teenagers being escorted away from a large complex, while off to the side, police were apprehending crowds of unscrupulous and dangerous looking individuals. At the top in bold capital letters was the headline:
VILLAINS INVADE YUEI GROUNDS! HEROES IN TRAINING SUFFER NO LOSSES IN SUDDEN ATTACK!
"Really Jimmy? Can you give me a reason why I'd give a shit about some hero-wannabe brats?" The man growled darkly, completely unamused.
"Give me but a moment sir." Blake calmly replied as he held his finger on a specific spot on the mirror image on his tablet.
A second later, the image zoomed in on something in the background, becoming pixel porridge until Blake gave another tap and it enhanced, allowing them to see his goal.
A small shot of the hand of a teenage girl with pale white skin, emblazoned with blue kaleidoscopic markings.
The effect was immediate.
The man shot to his feet, shoving his chair into his desk!
"Blake…"
"Sir?"
"Leave. Now."
Giving no response but a small bow of the head, Blake left the room, all the while the man stared at the image. After a few moments of silence, he stepped back and sat back down in his chair. Spinning around to his desk he reached underneath and pressed his thumb to the biometric scanner hidden on the bottom. It beeped and from the bottom right drawer there was a click.
He pulled it open and retrieved one of his most treasured possessions, worth more to him than all of the money in the world.
A single framed picture of a young, black haired, blue eyed girl in a navy dress, giving a two finger salute and a bright smile to the camera.
"Don't worry Angel." He said, running a thumb over the glass. "Daddy's coming. Once I have you safe and sound… nothing will stand in our way."
To be continued in season 2…
And with that, we have made it through season 1! I am so proud that I actually made it this far, that so many people actually liked what I have made and that you all want more! Thank you all again for your favs, follows and kind words! I am super excited for what is to come with the Sports Festival and internship arcs! I'll see you there!