Tenth Industries Headquarters, New York CityMorgan Pierce was a nervous man, there was no question about that. His fingers were always busy, whether they were drumming on his leg, twirling a pencil, or holding a cigarette (he had been trying to quit, but to no avail). His beady eyes darted around, looking at pedestrians as they walked by him on the street. It was a terribly dreary day, the raindrops mixing with the salty sweat on his brow. He was wearing one of his nicest suits (a meeting with the boss truly is a special occasion), and he held a black briefcase in his hand. Inside that briefcase, however, was something more important than poor Mister Pierce could understand. The lives of many people, including his own, hung in the balance. But that was not why he was nervous today. He was nervous because today was the day people would know. They would finally learn the truth, the truth that would shake their entire world.
He shuffled impatiently through the lobby, his wet coat dripping with water. The documents in his briefcase were too important to keep online; hard copies were in order, printed on single white sheets of paper. He hoped they were not wet; even a single smudge could blur the incriminating lines. Pushing his glasses up on his nose, he quickly thanked the secretary that had informed him that his boss was ready to see him.
It was a long elevator ride to the top of the building.
He stepped quietly into the office of Mister Tenth. He had seen him in person only twice; once at a board meeting, and the other as he greeted reporters in the lobby. Mister Tenth exuded friendliness; people often said they were very comfortable around him. He would smile and shake your hand, often complimenting your new shoes or haircut. He did his best to make his employees comfortable (not to mention well-paid), but Morgan was not a particularly comfortable man. From the moment he had seen Mister Tenth shaking hands with all those reporters, he knew something was...different. He couldn't put his finger on it; it was a sort of subconscious fear that Morgan had. He didn't know why he would be afraid; Mister Tenth was a generous man, quick to smile, with a kind-hearted laugh that brightened a room. Not your typical millionaire, he was certainly something different. He was even so kind to have funded the new Champions of Peace that had appeared in New York City. But that was what Morgan had to talk to him about. It was possible that Mister Tenth was in great danger, and the source of said danger was the Champions themselves.
"Mister Pierce," began his employer, "how kind of you to join me. Do come in. I believe your message said there was something of great importance to discuss, yes?" He sat in his office chair, fingers tapping together in front of his face. The lighting in this room was low. A roaring fireplace was one of the only sources of illumination (Morgan wasn't sure if it was real or artificial). Ominous shadows were cast about the office, concealing most of his employer's face. His voice was subtly different. Not the kind, middle-American accent the media had become accustomed to. No, this sounded vaguely European. It was a minor thing, but for some reason it unnerved Morgan. He had heard that voice before, he was sure of it. But it would be impolite to bring up in conversation, and there were far more important things to talk about.
"Er, yes sir. It concerns your dealings with the new, uh, Champions of Peace. I think they...I think they aren't who they say they are, sir. Not at all. They're dangerous. We need to tell people, right now. I didn't know who to go to, so I thought of you, Mister Tenth, and I-"
His employer had raised a palm, imploring, no, ordering him to stop talking.
"And why do you think this?"
Morgan shifted uneasily from foot to foot.
"I have evidence. Evidence of their corruption, of their evil. You need to see it right away. It's right here in my briefcase, sir."
He pushed the briefcase across the table, watching as Mister Tenth opened it and surveyed its contents. After about half of a minute, he stood up, stacking the files neatly. Looking at them for a moment, then at Morgan, he stood up with the files in hand, marched over to the fireplace, and casually dropped them in.
Needless to say, Morgan was horrified. He was, in fact, speechless. He had walked in here with all of the evidence pointing to the biggest conspiracy of the century, and his own employer, perhaps the man in the most danger right now, had just destroyed all traces of the incriminating documents. He walked over to Morgan, who was shuddering with shock, and put his hand on his shoulder.
"Now, now, Mister Pierce. Calm down. You'll have nothing more to worry about, I promise."
A split second later, Mister Tenth's palm slammed into Morgan's throat. He was unable to speak, barely able to breath, and unable to scream. He fell to his knees, and Victor raised his knee, slamming it into Morgan's face and knocking him onto his back. Morgan couldn't do anything. He couldn't move, he couldn't fight back. His body had betrayed him. Victor picked him up, raising him over his head, and threw him clear across the room.
"Come now, Mister Pierce. I barely even touched you."
Morgan got up slowly. What the hell was going on? Who was his employer? Why was he doing this?
Morgan eyed his boss in fear as he slowly crossed the office, the fire casting sinister shadows everywhere. It had picked up in intensity, and the crackling noises of burning bark were audible throughout the room. Mister Tenth cracked his knuckles.
Morgan's breath had begun to return to him, and the adrenaline was beginning to kick in. He wasn't thinking anymore, just acting. He hadn't taken five years of karate for no reason. He lunged weakly at his boss, fist raised, only for it to be caught casually by his opponent. Victor's forehead smashed into Morgan's, once, twice, three times. A thin trickle of blood ran down his forehead, illuminated by the flames. Morgan gasped his last words, unable to move, unable to resist.
"You-y-you're...you're pure evil."
Victor knelt down next to him, wiping the blood on his hands off on Morgan's suit.
"Now you're catching on. I'm sorry, Morgan, I really am. You shouldn't have poked your nose where it didn't belong. You're really going to miss out on my beautiful new world. But alas...it's just business."
His neck broke with a sickening crack.
All just business.
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