+- Discovery Gaming Community (https://discoverygc.com/forums)
+-- Forum: Role-Playing (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=9)
+--- Forum: Stories and Biographies (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=56)
+--- Thread: Coup D'etat (/showthread.php?tid=134910)
Coup D'etat - BMM-HQ - 01-12-2016
Coup D'etats
Planet New London, Main District, BMM Headquarters: 11/01/823, 1900 hours.
They bustled inside in pairs. The Directors assembled in the head office, all seated at the rectangle table, filled with anxiety, for their jobs and their futures. They locked the doors as they spread dozens of documents across the table. Charts, graphs and data tables were projected onto the walls, displaying company growth, employee welbeing and operational declines. They crowded around the facts and information, struggling to find a solution to the ever growing problem at hand.
It was the Trade Director that made the first move.
"Since Smith's take over, we've seen a drastic drop in all fields."
"Don't be ridiculous" snarled the HR Director, "we're at war, damn it. This is what we should be expecting. Other corporations have had far worse-"
She was cut off by the IT Director, who lashed out. "You're just defendin' him because you've been given him more than his cuppa tea each mornin'!" A sinister silence fell over the room as the head of HR pressed her lips into an annoyed, thin line and stared sternly at the dirty looking manager, then returned to the charts on the walls. The Operations Director spoke next.
"Regardless, with the mobilization of Gallic forces, we've been moving more and more people into reserve and on call. We need action, and if that means kicking a man or two, I'm all for it."
The division began to grow, clearly some were suspect to the idea of a faulty CEO, so they pressed on through the pages, documents and projections, hoping a far better conclusion could be made. The other half congregated on the opposing side of the room and under their breaths, knew who had to take the reigns. The arguing began, then fell away, only to rise again in a blaze of anger and fear. It raged on, until a pinkish sunlight began creeping through the falling London raindrops and filtering it's way through the city. The Directors became tired and more swapped to the opposition, hoping to find an easy solution to the problem at hand.
"Band-aid over a broken arm, folks" said the Economics Director to the ones who gradually teetered over to the other side of the room. Yet, by the time the clocks had struck six, and they saw the workers filtering into work, it was clear that a decision had been made. John Smith had to go and he was to be replaced by a greater evil.
"Call him in" came the crackled message to the secretary at the desk. She waved the tall, threatening man from the neatly decorated foyer and into the disaster zone of the conference room. She, a small framed girl, neatly clad in office wear, led him, the grayed, sturdy man in a long black coat, with slacks and boots to suit, up to the double doors, where he smiled with a wicked grin as he stood at the final obstacle that came between him and his power. A shabby, double door. As she walked away, he whispered to himself.
"Sorry, George. But it was always going to be like this."
The Directors turned and stared as the man proudly walked into the room, eyes open like owls, and bodies tiredly posed like hawks over a carcass. After another awkward and tightly strung silence, the Security Director greeted the familiar face.
"Mr Jameson. Welcome back. The CEO's office is just down the hall, as I'm sure you already know."
Darcey walked further into the room, running a long, thin finger across the table that was painted in a variety of papers. His eyes traced upwards towards the herd of scared animals at the other end of the room. With his grin still wicked, he commanded them. "My, my. It's been a long night. Go home. You all should rest. I'll handle the rest."
With that, the frightened Directors huddled out of the room. Darcey approached the intercom.
"Alpha-3, to the CEO's office. That's Alpha-3 to the CEO's office, thankyou."
Then, there was the sound of boots knocking on the floors of the office, as the armed men made their hasty approach to the locked room. With one man at each side, the Captain gave a mighty kick to the door, then another and another, until it gave way, letting the mercenaries prowl instead. Darcey followed shortly after, announcing himself proudly.
"Mr Smith, consider yourself officially demoted, by order of the CEO. Out of my office, now."
It was the Trade Director that made the first move.
"Since Smith's take over, we've seen a drastic drop in all fields."
"Don't be ridiculous" snarled the HR Director, "we're at war, damn it. This is what we should be expecting. Other corporations have had far worse-"
She was cut off by the IT Director, who lashed out. "You're just defendin' him because you've been given him more than his cuppa tea each mornin'!" A sinister silence fell over the room as the head of HR pressed her lips into an annoyed, thin line and stared sternly at the dirty looking manager, then returned to the charts on the walls. The Operations Director spoke next.
"Regardless, with the mobilization of Gallic forces, we've been moving more and more people into reserve and on call. We need action, and if that means kicking a man or two, I'm all for it."
The division began to grow, clearly some were suspect to the idea of a faulty CEO, so they pressed on through the pages, documents and projections, hoping a far better conclusion could be made. The other half congregated on the opposing side of the room and under their breaths, knew who had to take the reigns. The arguing began, then fell away, only to rise again in a blaze of anger and fear. It raged on, until a pinkish sunlight began creeping through the falling London raindrops and filtering it's way through the city. The Directors became tired and more swapped to the opposition, hoping to find an easy solution to the problem at hand.
"Band-aid over a broken arm, folks" said the Economics Director to the ones who gradually teetered over to the other side of the room. Yet, by the time the clocks had struck six, and they saw the workers filtering into work, it was clear that a decision had been made. John Smith had to go and he was to be replaced by a greater evil.
"Call him in" came the crackled message to the secretary at the desk. She waved the tall, threatening man from the neatly decorated foyer and into the disaster zone of the conference room. She, a small framed girl, neatly clad in office wear, led him, the grayed, sturdy man in a long black coat, with slacks and boots to suit, up to the double doors, where he smiled with a wicked grin as he stood at the final obstacle that came between him and his power. A shabby, double door. As she walked away, he whispered to himself.
"Sorry, George. But it was always going to be like this."
The Directors turned and stared as the man proudly walked into the room, eyes open like owls, and bodies tiredly posed like hawks over a carcass. After another awkward and tightly strung silence, the Security Director greeted the familiar face.
"Mr Jameson. Welcome back. The CEO's office is just down the hall, as I'm sure you already know."
Darcey walked further into the room, running a long, thin finger across the table that was painted in a variety of papers. His eyes traced upwards towards the herd of scared animals at the other end of the room. With his grin still wicked, he commanded them. "My, my. It's been a long night. Go home. You all should rest. I'll handle the rest."
With that, the frightened Directors huddled out of the room. Darcey approached the intercom.
"Alpha-3, to the CEO's office. That's Alpha-3 to the CEO's office, thankyou."
Then, there was the sound of boots knocking on the floors of the office, as the armed men made their hasty approach to the locked room. With one man at each side, the Captain gave a mighty kick to the door, then another and another, until it gave way, letting the mercenaries prowl instead. Darcey followed shortly after, announcing himself proudly.
"Mr Smith, consider yourself officially demoted, by order of the CEO. Out of my office, now."