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Militem Dominum · (12-11-2013)

Date: 15 March, 2045
Location: Office 16, Tower 4, Montreal, Quebec, Canada
Current Mood: Agitated

For a few good seconds, I stare down at the piece of paper atop the stack inside the folder. Exotech? They bring me across the world, to deal with a second rate bit of local competition? Grabbing the other end of the folder, I slam it back on top of the worthless stack of computer paper. Just then, a knock on the door to my office awakens me from this state of exasperation. I look through the window to see an unfamiliar face. Fuck, just when I thought things couldn't get any worse.

"Come in, it's open." I'm going to regret this, I just know it. The door slowly swings open, a rush of cool air penetrates the still uncomfortably warm temperature of the room at large, feeling nice, admittedly. The unrecognized figure, he had to be an intern, steps into the room, dressed in a standard issue Endotech uniform - which consisted of but was not limited to: a predominately black (with flashes of white, such color, I know) jumpsuit with the Endotech logo stitched onto the back. Only interns wore those shitty uniforms.

"Militem, Militem Dominum?" the intern asked in a hushed tone. Anxiety crept into his words, it appears as though my reputation has once again preceded me. Standing up and shaking my left hand out of the large sleeve of the robe, I reach out and offer said hand for a shake. He accepts with hesitance, his whole arm trembling. When our hands finally meet, I'm assaulted with the moisture from the man's sweaty palm.

"At your service," I reply, pulling my hand away from his at the first possible chance. I wipe my newly freed hand against the back of my head, allowing the man's perspiration to absorb into my scalp. Or, maybe not. The loose globs of sweat bead up and stick to pieces of hair. Gah!

"I, I was told that you muh-might need some uh, clarification on your assignment..."

"Yes, that would be lovely, mister...?"

"Clinton, sir. Gerald Clinton." Great, now I know his name. I'm likely not going to remember it, or need to even, but now I know it for reference or something.

"Well Mister Clinton, care to fill me in this Exotech dilemma?" Get this fuckin' show on the road, Gerald!

"Oh, well um," he begins, twiddling his thumbs. "Exotech is..."

"Local competition? An unneeded distraction from the big picture? A waste of my damn time? All of those are accurate, mind you. So tell me; why do you need me here to deal with those bleeding heart activists?"

Gerald laughs, nervously. I slink back into my chair, eyes intently locked on his. He regains his composure, falling into the chair on the other end of my desk and resting one leg atop the other in a figure four.

"Exotech is a major problem, sir."

"Well please, elaborate the part of them being either, because frankly, I'm a little fucking confused!"

He opens his mouth, wanting to say something but quickly pursing his lips before the words have a chance to escape. Rolling his eyes and keeping them pointed up toward the ceiling, he hums a tune through his clenched lips before finally speaking two words.

"Time travel."

"What?"

"If our reports are right, Exotech appears to be closing in on a major breakthrough in the field of time travel. If so, they are jeopardizing our entire operation."

I sigh, looking down at the closed folder. "Jesus. As if we weren't on spaghetti legs already."

Now, it was his turn to be confused. He stares at me, eyes widened in surprise at my words. "Wuh-what?"

"Come on Gary, don't you see it? This branch, one cog in the larger Endotech machine, having troubles dethroning a company made almost entirely of college students looking for a way to strike at 'The Man'? This firm is fucking doomed."

His eyes widen further, and he starts to take shallow breaths. Gripping onto the bottom of his chair, he rocks back and forth, eyes darting around the room. "No, that's not true! Is it?"

Jeez, these Canadians are too easy to mess with! "Yes, yes it is. Now, I understand why you brought me in." I sigh. "Looks like I have to be a God damn miracle worker."

"Well, okay then..."

Finally sliding my arm back into the sleeve of the robe, I stand up once more, walking around the desk and placing my hands down on his shoulders.

"Tell me, Gerald; how would you like to come with me to see how this time travel nonsense works?"

Slowly, he nods his head yes. Good.

"Perfect. Get out of this uniform and put on some civilian clothes." I pull the hood of the robe over my head. "We're gonna pay Exotech a little visit."

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