These are all works in progress and due for a major rewrite once I get all parts written.
The man in the dark blue suit shifted in his chair at the head of a long oaken conference table. His eyes held the half glazed look of a man lost in thought while trying to appear attentive. The dark blue suit could be seen from a distance to be made of a fine cloth. Probably Oregon silk. The azure cloth was accented abysmally by the man's blood red tie. It was his favorite tie, in the midst of which resided a shining emblem of the Neocene Corporate Seal. Eight other men were present at this quarterly meeting, and one of them was motioning emphatically at a pie-chart while the rest sat in a state of bemused awe. The man in the dark blue suit could not keep his attention on such matters. Again, he shifted in his chair. "We are on the verge of somethng big," he thought to himself while keeping his eyes planted firmly on the robust man giving his budget proposition. Of course, the man in the dark blue suit had decided weeks ago what he would allow in the accounting budget and was not easily swayed. He had learned a long time ago that in order to lead, one must perpetually stay a week or so ahead of one's subordinates. Hs name was Joe Macafee, and he was Neocene's current Chief Executive Officer. "We are a short step away from world domination and all these guys can think about is numbers!," Joe fumed. The man in the dar blue suit shivered excitedly but not noticeably. He had dreamed about world domination since his days in the war.
Back then he had only seen himself as a foot soldier for the dominant, but it seemed the fates had chosen him to reign. Many years ago he had just done the bidding of others and had made a hefty salary doing so. He found himself wishing now that some of his comarades were here. Thre had only been ten of them in his group, but they had killed more than most platoons. They were mercenaries for hire and they were good at what they did. As hard as they had worked while on the job though, they had always known how to celebrate an imminent triumph. An imperceptible smile emerged at the corners of his mouth. Violent celebrations they had been. Back then, he had killed nearly as many people while celebrating as he had while working. Blood had run like wine, and wine like water. He thought inwardly that if Charlie and Buzz had been here, that they would know how to celebrate. They wouldn't be rambling on about net operating profits. Those men were his immediate subordinates in the war and fittingly, Joe knew that he would slay them a week before they found out.
Looking back on it, a case could be made that the fates had chosen him to lead. He had become leader of the mercinary group in short time due to his sheer ruthlessness. He gave no quarter in battle, and would slaughter his own men at the slightest hint of disloyalty. After the war, the Corporations had begun the arduous treaty process. The division of industries had proven much more difficult than the division of lands. Mergers abounded, each Corporation vying for the largest and most profitable commerce. It was at this point that Joe had gained employment with the Neocene Corporation. He converted his men from an elite group of warmongers to a fleet of agile assassins. His emploment though, had come about in a strange way. The then current CEO, whose son Joe had massacred, had sought him out. Not to kill him, as Joe had thought, but to contract his services. The old man had been impressed by Joe. He had told Joe on countless occasions that he was reminded of his younger days whenever he saw Joe work. The old man had taken a great interest in the killings Joe did for him, and an even greater interest in Azumi.
Azumi was Joe's preferred instrument of death. It was a carbon blade about the length of a dagger which would, through subtle movement, become that of a broadsword. She had an energized blade that sent currents back and forth in quick succession. The effect upon flesh was much like that of a carving knife on a succulently cooked fowl. This energy could, through a gesture grasped only by Joe, be sent forth. Quite often, this projectile would decapitate a man cleanly at a distance of fifty meters or more. While guns and explosives held their usefulness, Joe preferred any real killing to be done hands on. Joe had personally assassinated more than sixty people during the peace talks with this weapon.
The Corporation had used this to carve out a larger piece of the market for itself. Joe had also strengthened his position in the Corporation. Even during the war, he had always had good business sense. He knew how to get the most reward out of doing a job, even though he and his clients had both known that he would have happily done the job at half the price. Joe had so worked his way up the ranks in the Corporation that noone had been greatly surpised when Joe murdered the old man and took his place as CEO. Since that day, Joe had not killed anyone. He had other people to take care of those matters. Still, at times like these when things were going so well, he longed for some good violence.
Things were going well. During his tenure, Joe had secured the Corporation's position, and was now on the verge of a total overthrow of the Corporate system. This new project would place Neocene at the head of all tables. For the first time, there would be a large umbrella Corporation under which other Corporations would bandy for favor. Their ducks were all in a row now, and only a short passage of time barred them from their goal. The man in the dark blue suit leaned back comfortably in his chair and let out an audible sigh. The robust man at the other end of the table took notice, and interpreted it to mean that Joe was at ease with the billion credits worth of expenses he had just outlined. Looking smug and thoroughly pleased with himself, he regained his position at one of the tall backed chairs surrounding the table. Joe noticed this, but paid it no mind. That man would find out soon enough what his real budget was to be. Joe smirked at the thought, which the next man up did not find so comforting.
Joe allowed himself to be lost in thought once more. Joe could scarcely believe that the man had done it. That rat of a man that always acted humble while plotting to stab you in the back. Joe had dealt with his kind before and knew how to keep them on a leash. The man even went to bars every morning to take shots before work. His peers even thought lowly of him. They all assumed he had lucked into every good job he had ever had. They swore that he must have taken credit for other peoples' work. Joe was the only one that had seen that the man had had some actual talent. Joe himself had placed him at the head of this project. Had forced the grant through when all of his experts had told him that it would never work. Only now that it had worked, Joe could barely believe that the rat was about to hand him the world on a silver platter. It had pained Joe more than a little, the thought of having such a man branded. It had been put off as long as possible, but at this point it was necessary. The project was almost finished. "I'm ready," Joe thought. "I'm so sick of this cold war bullshit!"