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Chapter 3
The Miqo'te adjusted his cravat before pulling his knees to his chest that he might squat upright in his chair, something his father would have fumed over and worked intently to break him of. His feline eyes bounced from one senior manager to the next. "Thank you for taking the time to attend this meeting, first and foremost; I know you all lead busy lives so we'll skip the formalities and dive headlong into the grit." He opened a polished wood humidor sitting at the corner of his desk and retrieved a cigar that smelled profoundly of expensive tobacco. He rolled it between his fingers idly, never averting his gaze from the expectant members of each associated branch of Laughing Armaments.
"Each of you is to reduce his or her work force by no fewer than thirteen people - preferably the least productive within their field; This trend will continue, every two weeks with the same quota to meet, until such time that our staff does not exceed five hundred and fifty individuals total." He set the cigar along his lips, sucking at it gently as he produced a lighter and ignited the tip as the Chief Development Officer spoke. "Mister President... The unrest this will create will put us in a predicament... some may not be so compliant as to just lay down everything they've done up to a point in favor of the streets... Could we not just reduce the amount of gil we're paying each man?" Char's ears twitched as he exhaled a cancerous smog into the air and sighed.Â
"If we acted on your suggestion to reduce the pay allocated per employee, we'll see an even larger upset than if we simply began cutting personnel numbers. When people lose gil they feel entitled to - they riot. If they feel productivity is being monitored, and they also bear witness to what happens to the less capable among them... They will strive to do what is expected of them, and beyond, to maintain their due coin." He took another drag on the cigar before continuing with smoke flooding from his nostrils. "I'm more than aware that there are many who will be reluctant to surrender their source of income but the choice is ultimately out of their hands. If they wish to contend that fact, have security beat them over the head with a blunt object and hurl them into the street."
"Our Financial Managers report that at present we only demonstrate a two percent overall profit. This is unacceptable. Under Goenfal's leadership, we saw several unnecessary bonuses paid out to the higher echelons of this corporation - that is to say - the lot of you sitting in this office. While I'm certain you worked tirelessly to curry his favor and kindled friendships in hopes of doing so - I want to make it clear that such pandering will not take place under my charge of this organization. I expect results - and I expect them hastily. I don't care to further your financial claims out of an obligation of friendship. I expect you to reaffirm your own pockets with the results -I- am due." He moved the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue.Â
Ashorea sat silently among her colleagues, staring blankly at figures she'd already reviewed in her notebook. Her associates, however, were not as compliant. "Your father would-" Char slammed his left hand against his desk, rising suddenly. "I am not Goenfal Lohengrin. I do not care what he would, or would not, do. I likewise do not care whom assumes the general management position you currently occupy either. Consider that, before you think to lecture me. At present - I dictate the flow of power -and- money. For all intensive purposes, when you go home at night and pray for success... When you call out to your Gods... You should be calling out to me because in this building? So long as you work for Laughing Armaments? I AM YOUR GOD." Char moved to stand upright and stare the portly Hyur down, who slowly sat back in his chair, looking to the ground. The others looked among themselves, unsure and slightly rattled.Â
Char slowly eased himself back down into his chair and inclined his head. "I apologize. That was rather loud. I shouldn't have taken that tone with you..." He smashed the tip of his cigar into the ashtray sitting next to a thin stack of folders as if to signify the topic was at rest. "That will be all. I await your bi-weekly reports. If anything of note comes up, pass it along through my secretary." They all rose to exit. "Ashorea... If you'd be so kind, I've some additional terms to be relayed throughout research and development." The female Elezen sat down, feeling the eyes of the four other senior leaders appraising her searchingly before they left. Char began rubbing at his temples, exhaling as if exhausted. "Politics... how trite."
He flipped open the folder on his desk and began looking over the picture of the Au Ra's figure. "What have you brought me?" He asked expectantly as he turned the paper over and looked over hastily written notes regarding the nature of aether and it's countless applications on the battlefield. "The majority of the development team assigned to 'Project DI' have come up as either having their contracts terminated, resigned immediately after the former President Lohengrin's death, or simply deceased. I only found one that retained his position within the company, and he swears to secrecy whenever I ask." She moved to set a single page upon his desk before sitting back down. "This was the initial concept regarding the project submitted to the former president. Rather simplistic, really. I can't see why he would allocate the amount in funding that he did."
Char set his fingers upon the paper and drew it forward, studying the paragraph written in flowing letters. He read the proposal aloud. "Pending the approval of the board, the development team would pursue the battlefield application of subjects that have been appropriately 're-educated' via hypnosis, magical suggestion, and physical reinforcement before infusing them with aether in efforts to enhance their physical, mental, and magical capabilities beyond what was previously conceived as possible. To accompany each infused soldier will be a tailored set of weapons and armor to ensure maximum results on the field of battle. The projected revenue per capita is estimated at 100,000;1. It is believed that the technology already present in modern society is sufficient to achieve the desired results."
 'Approved' was written in his father's hand just to the top right corner, with an accompanying seven figure budget allocation just beneath it. "I should hope this seems as mad an idea to you as it does to me, Ashorea." He looked up at her, expecting a response. She did not break her silence. "I imagine you already knew about this, didn't you?" She nodded, looking up towards him. "I was aware of it before I was appointed as the senior manager of R&D, but not the extent to which it was intended or the reasons why the former president would want to spend such a ridiculous sum on a theoretical pursuit. I didn't want to say anything when you first inquired as my knowledge was so limited, I'd have hated to steer you wrong." She turned her eyes back to her feet.Â
"No. You didn't want me to start asking too much of you, for fear I'd be dissatisfied with what you -did- know, meager though it may have been." He stood up and closed the folder, holding onto the render of the Auri figure as he moved to gaze out the window that had only days earlier been washed of his adopted father's blood. "I will assure you that I will not be so inclined to speak with you as I did Davyd. I will take all that you say with a measure of doubt reasonable to your own insight." He looked over his shoulder and smiled at her before looking back out over the dimly lit streets. "Well sir... I only knew that a handful of candidates were selected for trials, mostly prisoners with an acceptable physique. They were purchased under the table and transferred here. We have a subdivision within R&D that houses monsters for testing purposes, so it isn't as if we weren't equipped to house them... However, what I discovered when I crossed the manifests with the number of cells and the maximum capacity, there were inconsistencies."
Char's tail bobbed back and forth as he listened intently. "So... the papers reflect more holding facilities than we actually have? Or perhaps, have direct access to?" She nodded. "We crossed that with the concept for the building prior to it's construction and found that there are in fact, four more cells of smaller sizes hidden deeper below the development floor at the basement... To say it plainly, sir, there is a secret door leading to a hidden holding compound underneath this building." The Miqo'te turned to look at her, perking a brow in interest. "The most interesting fact, however, is that the date those ideas were penned - coincide with the date the idea for 'Project DI' was proposed... which falls -prior- to the company's founding." He returned the drawing to his desk as she finished speaking.
A smile crept along Char's features as he asked with thoughts mirroring his words; "So you mean to imply that Goenfal Lohengrin's entire reason for building this company from the ground up - was to fulfill a twisted, and rather poorly written, concept for some manner of 'super soldier'?" She shook her head. "I hadn't thought on that, sir. Only that it was all we had at present." He moved to stand behind her, setting his hands upon her shoulders. Ashorea tensed up, as his fingers dug into her skin - before he began to lightly massage them. She relaxed slightly. "I trust you had this hidden room inspected?" He asked, working the stress along her muscles out with skilled hands. "Yes. I had one of the security detachments clear it out; there wasn't much in the way of written documentation, but there was an Au Ra prisoner still inside, malnourished and absent minded... I've since taken measures to ensure he is attended. I have no way of knowing how long he's been left to his lonesome, but I don't feel it a stretch to imagine it wasn't long after the former president's passing - given the recent appearance of the anatomy papers."
"How long until he's ready to speak, do you think?" He asked, breathing along the back of her neck intentionally. "A w-week or t-two..." She stuttered, feeling her cheeks flush. "Then we have all night to form some theories of our own."
