Snippet #1584704

"...morale is low and many are feeling the work is against our objectives."

Len stared at the capsule in front of him. A glass cylinder with metal casing, storing a pulsating white; pure magic. A gift from the head scientist, but Len still didn't fully trust the guy. He placed his hand on the item, the cleanliness of the contents fading into a transparency, and picked it up. He cradled it as he turned to face the representatives. Even Chronos needed managing, and some of the workers weren't happy. Of course, this should be the domain of Virchow, but that was irrelevant at this time.

"Mr Floon, Mr Javis, this is pure magic, something our head scientist has a... fascination, we'll say, with creating. As you can see, it fades near me. I don't think it's a secret I am immune to most power, including that of the Angels. But you?" He tossed the capsule over the desk, hitting Floon on the head and the magic leaking out of the container. A sharp scream emitted from him as his body was overloaded with energy, culminating in the top-right of him disintegrating, falling backwards out of his chair. Unfazed, Len addressed Javis. "You need to learn your place. All of us united against the prejudice of our land," he kept speaking as he turned again, staring out the window. "And we can't forget that out there, we are lepers. No matter what the workers want... we can't forget... our... alternative." His voice began to trail off as he entered the thoughts he tried to forget about.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus. "You know what to tell them. Clear off, and send in my assistant." Len listened to the man walk out, shutting the metal door behind him. Len insisted on that for his office; it had such a good feel to it. As he flicked out his left arm kukri and inspected it, he heard the door again. "Jamesson, clean up the body. I wouldn't be surprised if the boss had a visit." Glass shards were moved. "Oh, and send Virchow a note about the capsule. Write 'Sorry' as meaningful as possible."