2015-07-13 8:02:01 ¶ ● ⬀ ⬈

cyberarms:

> “Every little move” could be someone’s last, as far as anyone was concerned.

> You learned quick, that while Hyperion favored the loyal, the bold and the innovative, a single misstep could cost you everything, and your life was not the worst that you could have taken from you. Ambitious young men, such as Rhys, had to walk the line between ambitious and subtle enough to not draw attention from upper management, who had the disposition of sharks that had scented blood in the water, if they felt someone was threatening their positions.

> It all boiled down to: don’t fuck with the big leagues until you knew you’d succeed. Which meant that being in the middle of Jack’s office was exactly where he did NOT want to be at that point in his career, and for all the wrong reasons. He’d rather be there because he’d done something so stellar, in Jack’s eyes, that the CEO himself would praise him for a job well done. Oh Rhys, he’d say, where have you been all my life? I’ve been looking for a man just like you, all these years, someone dependable and intelligent. I see much of myself in you–

> Except Jack was saying none of these things, and the not-so-subtle threat in Jack’s voice was enough to jar Rhys from his reverie. “I’ve already amended the contract and acquired the patents, and within four months, profit will have outstripped the monetary losses,” he protests, managing to hiss the last syllable as he was struck across the face. Next thing he knows, he’s on the floor, his prosthetic limb clattering mechanically as he reaches out to catch himself before his aching head smacks off the ground below.

> What the fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck. This is not good, he thinks, and lifts his eyes from the floor to locate Jack, immediately. “ – I swear,” in the midst of his voice cracking, “I’m going to make this up to you, I, I I, I’m already making this up to you.”

“You sure are, kiddo.” Jack stalks towards him before kicking him down the few stairs of the higher landing that Jack’s desk is located on. He jumps down after him, practically vibrating with a combination of rage and violent glee and making sure Rhys is face up before he pins the kid down to the floor, resting the weight of his knees on Rhys’ elbows and wrapping his hands around his throat.

Strangulation has always been Jack’s favorite. By now he’s lost count of how many times he’s ‘fired’ someone via crushing their windpipe. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of watching the light leave someone’s bulging eyes as their face turns various shades of purple, feeling the tendons snap beneath giving flesh. It excites him– in more ways than one. Jack shushes the man underneath him, quick and soft, fingers digging in as he fights any struggle the other gives.

He’ll have to remember to tell Blake to send the kid’s family some flowers and compensation for their loss. Such pretty face too, Jack thinks to himself, what a waste.