Paul Spiro's Story

The man stepped out of the black, company issued, Chrysler sedan. Flanked by two taller, burlier men, and pursued by a woman struggling to keep up, the man made his way towards the research facility ahead.
"Hurry up will you? Or we might be late." His words were crisp and clear, finding their way right into the ears.
"I'm sorry Mr. Spiro, but-"
"There's a reason why I don't like it much when you wear heels Sarah. Besides, we're going to a possibly hazardous research facility, not a fashion show." The words leaving the man's mouth were saturated with contradictions.

First, the crew was 5 minutes early.
The intercom at the front door beeped on. "Hello, please state your business at Morningside."
"Paul Spiro, representative from Paragon Incorporated Head Quarters." A retina and fingerprint scan ensued before the door before them slid open.
"We've been expecting you Mr. Spiro." When they walked inside, Paul wasn't surprised to see the greeting office empty. It was amazing how much better computer voices had become, but they were still a tad bit off.

Second, Paul didn't like his secretary wearing high heels because it drew her closer to his own height.
The four walked down a few corridors before picking up the commotion radiating from the cafeteria. Course was adjusted to head towards the sounds, there was bound to be staff there. Chaos ensued upon arrival. Some strange thing seemed riled up and about to start something even as the crew walked in. The two large men's hands disappeared inside of their suit jackets but reappeared after a speeding projectile seemed to calm the mutant down.

Third, the four were dressed as if on their way to a fashion show. The larger men were dressed in black suits and ties with white shirts underneath, while Paul and his secretary were dressed in grey suites, black ties, and a white shirt/blouse. Black shoes for everyone, and of course everything was designer. The only thing that seemed off was the unsymmetrical bulge on the left side of the chest of the two accompanying men. The men were originally supposed to be carrying moderately sized sub-machine guns on straps, but Paul found that to look a bit unprofessional. Instead they packed 45 caliber pistols at their hips, and light SMGs that accounted for the bulges.

Paul traced the rubber bullet to what looked like two security officers not far from their current location. "Excuse me," He spoke while approaching the two. "would you know who's in charge here?" Paul held out his ID, "Paul Spiro, I'm with Paragon's head quarters." To the point, no nonsense, professional. Perfect. The two men at his sides tried their best to look intimidating, and Paul had even instructed Sarah to hold a clipboard. It was all so melodramatic...He loved it.

Nakai shrugged at Blaze's question. "After lunch? I believe I'm discussing the results of Dr. Graham's investigation into Five-thirty four's psyche. As far as I've heard, top-level corporate is in the midst of one hell of an argument about whether it's a worthy risk or not."

And hell, was it one worth taking? Twice now #00534 had breached containment; twice, it had slaughtered dozens, mainly security personnel shooting at it but also innocent scientists and technicians. Yet, at the same time, corporate didn't care about loss of life until it got expensive; they just wanted their killing machine which could rip apart tanks, and screw all its mental complexes. But it just wasn't that simple, Nakai knew; that thing in there was a thinking organism. It felt pain, and loss, and sorrow, and anger, and it wasn't just a mindless berserker.

His sudden philosophical thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of four people in the room, none of which looked remotely like subjects. One was a crisp-looking businessman, one was obviously his assistant, and two bodyguards flanked them, their concealed submachineguns (Rubicon Industries RIA-7 PDW; the outline was unique) very evident under their jackets.

And they were standing on the subject level of the cafeteria, where any one of them could do any number of things to steal the guns and open fire. The OSIRIS suits were a boon to personal protection, but they only dampened bullet impact, not totally blocked it.

Simply put, every single subject in the room stared at them, and Nakai knew they noticed the guns and the strange people as well. When the leader whipped out his ID card, Nakai's suspicions were confirmed. Fucking corporates. They just fiddled around with numbers and ran think tanks on what new subjects to breed without ever really getting up close to them and seeing just how scary they got.

"You might want to come up to the catwalks before talking, sir," Nakai yelled down, waving his rifle at any subjects that inched too close to the oblivious procession. "Safer for everyone."

#00534 was quite the troublemaker. Machine, alien, an odd specimen to say the least. Blaze believed everyone would be better off if they just killed the damned thing, deactivated it, whatever. If corporate needed a machine, a machine could be made, artificial intelligence was tricky to program, but it could be done. The thought of a living machine held within the parameter put Blaze on edge. He wasn't a fan of #00534, and everyone in his security detail knew it, as did the brass. Which was probably why Blaze himself was never assigned to work with it, he'd fry it as soon as look at it. Just shoot it a few times, salvage the remains, and reverse engineer it. Easier on everyone.

But Blaze heard (and saw) the four men arrive just as Nakai did. He looked at Nakai when he instructed the group to come up to the balcony, looked back at the group, and said, "I'll get 'em. Keep me covered." He pushed off of the railing, turned to his left, and briskly walked the short distance down the hallway to the high-security elevator between the facilities' levels. "Captain Blaze, vocal authorization," he said to the microphone that he spoke to frequently, before undergoing the usual accompanying retina and fingerprint scans. The elevator doors hissed open, and Blaze stepped inside.

Paul Spiro, Paul Spiro, where had he heard that name before. Shit, Spiro, the hothead executive who only recently joined the corporate level of Paragon. He had overheard some of the other executive's arguing about Spiro's recent promotion (for the 4th time, or was it just the 3rd?). Blaze was trying to recall the information he had read, seen, or heard about the man when the elevator doors hissed open once again. Let's hope he's not as stupid as he is ambitious. Some of those subjects can be volatile, especially around new people.

Blaze walked out of the elevator, cut a right, and approached the small group. "Captain Blaze, I'm one of the heads of security here," he said as he stopped in front of the group. "I'll bring you up to the secure level, and we'll get this matter sorted out."

Victor and Max were the first to realize the change in atmosphere as the subjects began taking notice. The air was still and full of discomfort, but not hostility...yet. The two bodyguards accompanied their corresponding principles towards the security guard, a slight bend in the knees as they walked.
"Thank you Captain." Paul wore a counterfeit smile that ceased to reach the eyes. Sarah's was much more genuine. And of course Victor and Max kept their stone faced composures. Soon enough, the group was up on the "catwalks."

"Captain Nakai" A nod of acknowledgement followed the statement. Paul had "studied up" on Morningside prior to the arrival. Most, if not all personnel were well memorized as were locations and subjects. The whole, "Could you find the one who runs the place?" thing was a charade. Just an opportunity to meet some of the staff beforehand. The Captains were both most effective at what they did from what he'd read, and Paul was content with receiving directions or accompaniment from the security officers.

"As I've said, I'd like to know where I can find the one in charge here. It's on account of company business." His words weren't arrogant, but they weren't necessarily revering either. Just about void of emotion really, business tone. "Oh, and in case you were wondering," the businessman continued, "this is my assistant, Miss Anderson." Gesturing with his hands, Paul drew further attention to the two towering bodyguards. "And they are Misters Carr and Hunter. Please feel free to ignore their presence, after all they don't do much...unless there's trouble. Of course, we won't encounter anything of the sort."

The last statement had the whisper of a challenge in it, Paul couldn't help himself. It was a rare occasion to visit these facilities, and even less so with two giants that looked capable of swatting away most of everyone like flies. Of course, Paul knew about Blaze, all about him, but who said he couldn't have a little fun. Just a little. After all, who would dare confront the face of Paragon in one of the companies very own facilities?