Soundtrack for this chapter:

Achilles Come Down - Gangs of Youth

You crazy-assed cosmonaut, remember your virtue

Redemption lies plainly in truth

Just humor us, Achilles, Achilles, come down

Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

Chapter 2:

The bright red sun was beginning to set overhead as Tobey stood by his study window, observing the workers heading in for the day. They strolled slowly in groups out of the factory and over into their housing, a building also very close to his mansion. Women and men of all ages with tired faces trudged through the grass, though still able to carry on conversation with one another.

Tobey took in a deep breath and retreated away from his window and towards his desk. Stacks of paper, neatly organized, lay on his desk waiting for his attention. A photograph of his parents, dressed in fine clothes but wearing bright smiles, sits on the edge of the desk. He eyed the piles of paper, but continued to walk away from his desk.

As he opened the door to his study, he could hear the faint sounds of voices in the mansion. Sounds of dishes being laid out accompany the voices, and the smell of vegetables being sauteed fills his nose. It was pleasant.

Tobey lifted his jacket sleeve and checked his watch. 5:11 pm. As if on cue, his butler emerged from down the hallway.

"Are you prepared for dinner, sir?" He asked, strolling towards Tobey at a quicker pace.

"Yes, of course. What is on the menu tonight?" Tobey answered, peering straight in front of him.

"Spaghetti and salad, sir."

Tobey nodded and the two of them continued to walk down the hall and towards the dining hall. The closer they got, the more he could smell the fresh garlic and tomato sauce. It was a very pleasant aroma, but Tobey did not allow it to show on his face.

As they entered the hall, the remaining stragglers from dinner were slowly making their way out. Tobey did not tend to interact with the factory employees. It was typically best. He learned a majority of them didn't have very kind words to say to him. Neither did he feel like engaging in conversation with a bunch of criminals.

Tobey and his butler made their way to the kitchen to get their dinner which was specially prepared for the two of them. The chefs and bus boys were already cleaning up from the dinner rush. The sounds in the kitchen were loud, but calm. Consistent and structured. It sounded like a well oiled machine.

Tobey headed straight to the chef he knew best and stood silently and waited for his food.

"Good evening Mr. McAllister!" A larger man, with a "kiss the cook" apron spun around with two plates of food in hand; a large, happy smile on his face. Chuck was always happy, though. Tobey knew this.

"Thank you, Chuck," Tobey thanked, very lackluster in his tone, taking his food from Chuck and instantly heading back toward the way he came.

"How was your day, sir?" Chuck asked, politely before Tobey could get out.

Internally, Tobey cringed over the attempt at small talk, something he despised. Small talk was pointless and quite frantically, just irritating. It was only a means to avoid silence and feign friendliness. Tobey preferred to avoid the social expectation anytime he could.

"Fine," He answered before continuing his way out of the door. He could hear his butler talking to Chuck, but he did not care to stay and entertain the conversation.

Heading into the dining hall, everyone was finally out and the cleaning staff was beginning to make their rounds through the hall. Tobey and his butler often take their food up to their rooms, but sometimes they would sit down there and enjoy the quiet. That evening was an example of the latter.

Finally, the conversation from the kitchen died down and his butler emerged back from the kitchen and sat down across from him. His butler was the only person Tobey could stand having dinner with. Usually they sat in silence or talked business. He knew they had a lot to discuss.

"The new recruits have gotten their letters in the mail. Their arrival will coincide with the interview in two days," His butler told him, scanning through his email calendar on his smartphone.

Tobey nodded, twirling the spaghetti up around his fork and using his spoon as an aid. He wasn't entirely looking forward to that interview. He never liked any journalists in fact. But it was a part of the job unfortunately. Fortunately, he always gave these interviews blind, so his identity never got revealed to the public.

No one knew it was he who took over the factory when his parents passed away. And he preferred to keep it that way for as long as he could.

"Now according to rumors, Tim Botsford is quite ill. So we might need to make accomodations for him, if we intend to keep him around as long as we can," informed his butler hesitantly.

"We can place him in a single room closer to medical," Tobey remarked. He tried hard not to appear extremely bored with the conversation, but sometimes it was hard to seem engaged continuously. Business talk, he had learned early on, was very repetitive and mind numbing. He had figured out the routine quickly and had been doing the exact same thing for the past 5 years.

Several people at the time had thought that a 15 year old taking the reins of the largest corporation in the city, truly in the state, was a grand mistake. But as it turned out, he handled it quite well and adjusted properly to the job requirements.

But regardless of how good he was at it, he found no joy in running the business. It was tedious work. It was the expected and routine work the city placed on him and his establishment. It was only in those expectations that he found purpose in the work.

"I'm not sure we will have a single room close to the doctor, but I can perhaps move some other employees around as to best fit Mr. Botsford."

"Move those two girls together. That should solve the problem."

"Which two, sir?"

"You know. Those two that are always together. The redhead and her girlfriend."

His butler raised an eyebrow, "Kelsey and Sydni? I'm quite surprised, sir, you've taken notice…"

"Well, it is my job to manage this place, is it not?"

"Yes, you just don't typically take an interest in…"

"Just do as I ask, butler. Move the red head."

"Yes, sir."

They both turned back to eating their food in silence the rest of the meal, effectively ending the conversation.

The metal frame in his hand felt very cold, almost stung his hand with a chill. Maybe that had something to do with the air vent directly above his head shooting cool air down into the study, but perhaps not. The cold typically did not bother Tobey.

He stared down at the picture in front of him, remembering the day vividly. It was a photo of his parents and him, standing in front of the robotics museum in the capital. He was 13 at the time the photo had been taken. It had been a weekend trip his parents had surprised him with for having not used his own robots for destructive purposes in over several months.

He remembered it had been a shock because his parents had rarely taken vacations from the factory to take him anywhere, but they had deemed that trip very necessary. He remembered being so giddy about it, he had to tell someone about that trip once it was over…

He set the photo down. Everytime he thought about that trip it brought back emotions in him he had long shoved away. It was for the best after all. His job required the cold hand of a detail oriented mind. He fit that bill and conducted himself as such.

Plus, he didn't want to open that door back up. Allowing one feeling would open the flood gates to the rest and he couldn't afford that. He built up the image of himself he wanted portrayed and it was easier to continue to be that version of himself.

Tobey glanced at the red clock on his desk. 10:30pm. It was a bit later than he typically turned in for the night, but his mind was restless. So hence why he had perched himself in his study for a while, reading the latest novel, The Catcher in the Rye. He had never read it, since he missed out on all of high school. Ever since he turned 20 that year, he was determined to read all of the books he was supposed to back in high school English classes.

This book was well written and intrigued him. The protagonist was on some level, entertaining. Not in that Holden was fascinating, he wasn't. He was lonely and depressed, but in the way that Holden viewed things. The point of view nature of the book gave Tobey such insight into such a strange individual's head.

At least, that's what he told himself.

A yawn escaped from Tobey's lungs as he realized he was in fact starting to get tired. He had read enough for the day. Stretching his arms as he stood, he could feel the ache in them from sitting for hours reading. He groaned out of annoyance with how stiff his muscles felt.

It was at that moment, a red light and silent alarm in his study began going off. It was an alarm that was rarely ever tripped, so it startled Tobey immediately. He knew it had to be serious. Running for the first time in a long time, Tobey sprinted over to the wall where his security intercom was located.

"What is it? What is happening?" Tobey demanded, pressing the red button down, trying to hold in any panic that was threatening to overcome his whole body. He had to maintain his calm and reason.

"A hooded figure has snuck into the back lawn, sir, and is making their way towards the mansion. No weapons visible," The guard on the other end of the line informed him quickly.

Tobey took in a deep breath, "Okay, so no weapons. Do they look like a burglar?"

"Not sure, sir. Although who would attempt to steal from the place where all of the criminals go?"

"Someone with a masochistic complex. Ready a few guards. If this individual is unarmed like you say, this should be quick and painless. Let's see what they want," Tobey ordered prior to taking his finger off of the button.

A thief breaking into his mansion? Usually people attempted breaking out, but breaking in? He hadn't seen that in the 5 years he had been in charge. This was going to be interesting.