Archkyrie - Coffee
Grimm Tech Security Pistol
(Comments and Notes are welcome)
(Your turn Robbe)
(This description is gonna be a long one, story time)
Michael Thornton looked at the woman sitting across the table from him, tapping her pen against the edge of the table with nerve-shattering consistency. Her eyes were fixed on him with a piercing stare, even though she was supposedly "reading" the report held open in her other hand. He recalled hearing older employees at the company talking about this trick of hers. She could do both somehow, and it was creepy.
Creepy may not be the right word. Unsettling, intimidating, unnerving. Madam Grey was all those things and none. Michael decided to settle on the word unsettled.
Madam Grey was unsettling for a variety reasons. Perhaps it was the fact that she preferred to be called "Madam Grey" or "ma'am" if being short was necessary. Perhaps it was the fact that she never stated this desire, it was something every employee drilled into a new hire to make sure he didn't suffer the penalty of addressing her otherwise. Maybe it was the fact that this, and other things, always had an implied terrible punishment that was never named, never implicated, but hung in the air like a cold chill. For that matter, she always referred to others by their first name, and that struck Michael as unfair.
"Mike, I'm not sure you are taking this situation seriously. Stop grinning."
If anyone else had requested he stop grinning, Michael would have told them precisely where they could shove their opinion. However, Madam Grey does not "shove" things. Things go where she tells them to go, and they do so quickly.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, sobering abruptly. She had finished reading the report.
Madam Grey was enigmatic, and yet she was the only face by which any of those working at Grimm Inc. had to attach to the leadership. There was, of course, lots of talk about "The Board" and "The Director" and various "Chief Officers" of such-and-so-on. But there was Madam Grey, the only senior officer anyone had spoken directly to, and whenever someone needed a talking-to they were told that "Madam Grey will be coming to speak to you."
And so it was that Michael found himself sitting in a small, featureless room with her.
She sighed, as if this whole affair was a boring nuisance, "I don't need to tell you why we are having this discussion, Mike. You know what you did, and so do I. Let's skip the whole part where you pretend nothing happened, yes?"
Michael nodded.
"Good."
Madam Grey was a striking figure. It was impossible to guess her age, not a single wrinkle creased her face even though every single hair on her head was silver. Her skin was like her frame, tight. Everything about her gave off the impression of steel. She seemed neither young nor old, yet no one in the office could remember a day when she wasn't in charge. In 2105, an era of holograms, virtual reality vacations, augmented reality advertisements, cybernetic implants, and nanotechnology everywhere, Madam Grey wore a stone-grey herringbone skirt suit and stared her icy stare through a simple set of black rimmed glasses. In this bare room, across a metal table from her, there was nothing distinguishing this moment from a scene that could have occurred at the start of the 21st century. Unsettling.
"Mike, are you listening to me?"
Michael blinked, stirring himself from his thoughts.
"Yes, Madam Grey, I am listening."
"You better be. I don't need to remind you of the privilege that it is to work here. Even if this company was as it appears on the outside, this would still be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But you and I both know, Mike, that this company is more than that. In exchange for our work, our technology, and contingent upon our loyalty and our silence, the government gives us access to secrets. Secrets which have been kept for centuries. You understand that, right Mike?"
"Yes, Madam Grey, I do. Century old secrets, real deal stuff." Michael did his best to suppress his sarcasm and his boredom.
"Then why, Mike, would you do something to compromise that? We have the unprecedented opportunity to merge the ancient and forgotten. You agreed to this, you signed on to this vision. Do you want out?"
"No ma'am."
"If the secret gets out, it is over. I'd sooner lose you, a skilled team member, than lose this company. What you did could have compromised everything."
Michael sighed. He sighed because he was relieved, he had feared worse from her. He also sighed because it meant he wasn't allowed to continue his project.
"So you are saying you don't want me giving the Goblins guns anymore?"
Madam Grey slammed her hands on the table.
"Yes, Mike! For the love of God, stop giving the Goblins guns."
"Fine, I'll stop. I just thought we were about science in this company."
Madam grey leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes.
"We are Mike! we are. But science has no need, nor will it ever need, Goblins running around with guns. I want you to round them all up and confiscate the guns you gave them. Any damages are coming out of your paycheck. Am I clear, Mike?"
"Yes, Madam Grey."
Grimm Tech Security Pistol
(Comments and Notes are welcome)
(Your turn Robbe)
(This description is gonna be a long one, story time)
Michael Thornton looked at the woman sitting across the table from him, tapping her pen against the edge of the table with nerve-shattering consistency. Her eyes were fixed on him with a piercing stare, even though she was supposedly "reading" the report held open in her other hand. He recalled hearing older employees at the company talking about this trick of hers. She could do both somehow, and it was creepy.
Creepy may not be the right word. Unsettling, intimidating, unnerving. Madam Grey was all those things and none. Michael decided to settle on the word unsettled.
Madam Grey was unsettling for a variety reasons. Perhaps it was the fact that she preferred to be called "Madam Grey" or "ma'am" if being short was necessary. Perhaps it was the fact that she never stated this desire, it was something every employee drilled into a new hire to make sure he didn't suffer the penalty of addressing her otherwise. Maybe it was the fact that this, and other things, always had an implied terrible punishment that was never named, never implicated, but hung in the air like a cold chill. For that matter, she always referred to others by their first name, and that struck Michael as unfair.
"Mike, I'm not sure you are taking this situation seriously. Stop grinning."
If anyone else had requested he stop grinning, Michael would have told them precisely where they could shove their opinion. However, Madam Grey does not "shove" things. Things go where she tells them to go, and they do so quickly.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, sobering abruptly. She had finished reading the report.
Madam Grey was enigmatic, and yet she was the only face by which any of those working at Grimm Inc. had to attach to the leadership. There was, of course, lots of talk about "The Board" and "The Director" and various "Chief Officers" of such-and-so-on. But there was Madam Grey, the only senior officer anyone had spoken directly to, and whenever someone needed a talking-to they were told that "Madam Grey will be coming to speak to you."
And so it was that Michael found himself sitting in a small, featureless room with her.
She sighed, as if this whole affair was a boring nuisance, "I don't need to tell you why we are having this discussion, Mike. You know what you did, and so do I. Let's skip the whole part where you pretend nothing happened, yes?"
Michael nodded.
"Good."
Madam Grey was a striking figure. It was impossible to guess her age, not a single wrinkle creased her face even though every single hair on her head was silver. Her skin was like her frame, tight. Everything about her gave off the impression of steel. She seemed neither young nor old, yet no one in the office could remember a day when she wasn't in charge. In 2105, an era of holograms, virtual reality vacations, augmented reality advertisements, cybernetic implants, and nanotechnology everywhere, Madam Grey wore a stone-grey herringbone skirt suit and stared her icy stare through a simple set of black rimmed glasses. In this bare room, across a metal table from her, there was nothing distinguishing this moment from a scene that could have occurred at the start of the 21st century. Unsettling.
"Mike, are you listening to me?"
Michael blinked, stirring himself from his thoughts.
"Yes, Madam Grey, I am listening."
"You better be. I don't need to remind you of the privilege that it is to work here. Even if this company was as it appears on the outside, this would still be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But you and I both know, Mike, that this company is more than that. In exchange for our work, our technology, and contingent upon our loyalty and our silence, the government gives us access to secrets. Secrets which have been kept for centuries. You understand that, right Mike?"
"Yes, Madam Grey, I do. Century old secrets, real deal stuff." Michael did his best to suppress his sarcasm and his boredom.
"Then why, Mike, would you do something to compromise that? We have the unprecedented opportunity to merge the ancient and forgotten. You agreed to this, you signed on to this vision. Do you want out?"
"No ma'am."
"If the secret gets out, it is over. I'd sooner lose you, a skilled team member, than lose this company. What you did could have compromised everything."
Michael sighed. He sighed because he was relieved, he had feared worse from her. He also sighed because it meant he wasn't allowed to continue his project.
"So you are saying you don't want me giving the Goblins guns anymore?"
Madam Grey slammed her hands on the table.
"Yes, Mike! For the love of God, stop giving the Goblins guns."
"Fine, I'll stop. I just thought we were about science in this company."
Madam grey leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes.
"We are Mike! we are. But science has no need, nor will it ever need, Goblins running around with guns. I want you to round them all up and confiscate the guns you gave them. Any damages are coming out of your paycheck. Am I clear, Mike?"
"Yes, Madam Grey."