The sound of heavy rain and distant thunder filled the air as a redhead and a Blond woman huddle together in the dimly lit living room in the quite mansion, the silence was deafening. The distant sound of a ticking clock seemed to reverberate off the wall.
Suddenly, the silence is shattered by the sharp click of footsteps. A tall emerges from the shadows, his eyes filled with a desperate rage. A menacing smile on his face as if to hide what he was truly feeling.
The eyes of the redhead widened with recognition and fear, knowing the danger they now face. The man lunges at them with a chilling ferocity, his movements fueled by a mix of fury and heartbreak. He raises a gun, his hand trembling with unbridled emotion, ready to pull the trigger.
“you just had to, you always like to piss me off, don't you? It's hobby now. Why can't you just remain fucking still for once?” He spoke through gritted teeth, his voice filled with suppressed anger.
The redhead. seizing a brief moment, pushes the blond woman away, her voice ringing out against the turmoil. "Courtney, run!" she shouts, her words echoing in the desolate space.
The man's gaze locks on the ginger haired woman, a toxic blend of anger and brokenness radiating from his eyes. He advances on her, his every step a menacing threat, his grip on the gun tightening with unyielding resolve.
The scene crackles with tension as the air fills with the pulse of fear and desperation. The Ginger's breath quickens as she looks into the eyes of a man she once knew, now consumed by a darkness unleashed.
In a split second, he raises the gun, his expression twisted in a maelstrom of emotions, his finger inching towards the trigger, the deafening sound of the approaching storm mirroring the chaos within him. He lowers his gun down, a menacing smirk on his lips.
“I'm not gonna kill you, no” he chuckles as if this was some sort of a sick joke. “I want to hurt you, I want this to be so fucking painful that-”
The mansion is enveloped in a deafening silence as the man's gaze shifts to the source of the unexpected gunshot. With a bewildered expression, he turns to face the blond woman, his eyes filled with disbelief and a profound sense of betrayal. The air crackles with the tension of the unexpected turn of events.
The woman stands resolute, her hand steady as she holds the smoking gun, her eyes locking onto him. The mansion seems to hold its breath as the rain drums against the walls, the only sound save for the distant rumble of thunder.
Time seems to slow as the man menacing gaze pierces through the blond woman, his emotions a tempest within him. Without warning, his expression twists into a heart-wrenching mix of anguish and fury, a storm of conflicting emotions etched across his face.
Despite the gravity of the situation, the man raises his own weapon, the mansion bathed in an eerie glow from the flickering light above. The chill of the moment hangs heavy in the air, the rain outside matching the turmoil within the desolate space.
Without hesitation, his finger tightens around the trigger, the mansion echoing with the sharp report of repeated gunshot. The Blond staggers back, the force of the impact sending her crumbling to the ground, the world spinning in a disorienting whirl.
The woman staggers under the force of the impact, her body convulsing as she crumples to the unforgiving ground, the stark reality of the situation unfolding in a haunting crescendo.
The man's eyes, heavy with harted and anger, remain fixed on her fallen form. His expression, a turbulent sea of pure cruelty within him.
The rain beats down like a relentless drum, the mansion a harbinger of sorrow and tumult. The man's grip tightens around the gun, his hands trembling with a tumultuous mix of anger.
The woman was still breathing, she was alive. The man walks over to her with slow steps as if taking his time to enjoy the scene before his eyes. He kneels down next to the woman.
Just then, the redhead emerges from behind him, smashing a heavy vase on the man's head, he falls to the ground, his head bleeding. The woman doesn't stop. She takes a shard of glass and repeatedly stabs him, fueled by her anger and regret as she lets everything out of her heart…
Present Day,
Court_ waiting room
“This is not a joke, they want you behind bars. You make one statement, correct one outrageous claim, and that's it. You're being interrogated infront of the national press they're gonna rile you so bad”
Alan stands up straight, shoulders back. He made a minor adjustment to his professional business attire No one but him would've noticed the near imperceptible blemish. He turned his phone screen to his lawyer sitting before him, watching teletubbies.
“Motivation.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“unbelievable!” his lawyer snaps slamming his hand down on the table before them. “if you go down, we all go down. Do you not understand what we're going through? This is the fucking end Alan, we're fucking doomed. I covered up for you so don't fuck this up”
“Are you telling me that I have to face the consequences of my own actions? Can't say I saw that coming.”
That's the last straw. Cole, the lawyer, deflates, shuts down. He pauses, he doesn't know if he should throw Alan or himself outside the window. All of their problems could be solved if one of them died.
“Cole.” Alan says scooting closer to he man “when I take the stand, you'll see nothing but a granite wall.”
Cole sighed heavily, he's mentally preparing for their downfall. He never doubted Alan, the man was capable, you never know what goes through his head and once you think you got Alan figured out he gives you the middle finger with a little plot twist.
Alan doesn't shake unlike the man infront of him. With a subtle shake of head, Cole turned and trudged out.
Now alone, Alan exhales deeply. He turns his head facing the wall, resting it against it. He squints his eyes, his foot tapping the floor repeatedly.
“dumb fucks.”
With an exaggerated eyeroll he picks his phone up and presses a few buttons. He clears his throat and runs his hand through his blond hair fixing it.
“hello?”
The man on the other line asked. Alan, with a forced smile, as if the man can see him, and a fake excited voice like cringe wannabes high school girlies, he answers:
“heyyy, Gerg, greggy, pookie”
Alan could feel the man rolling his eyes as he speaks, his voice impatient.
“Holly fuck and shit, why is it always you calling me at the worst time possible? What is it this time?”
Alan replaces his smile with a bitter one, his voice is insolent and direct. “Get me out of this”
The man laughs. His laugh is mocking and sarcastic. “You?!” he says breathlessly trying to hold his laugh. “YOU?! The great Alan fucking Grant, did you slip on your way to he court?”
Alan shrugs unbothered. “No, I fell on my head once when I was a kid.”
The laughing stops, the man is back to serious and impatient. “No.”
“I wasn't asking.” Alan chuckles hearing the answer “Oh and one more thing, get me to the congress, my dad doesn't exactly have a good relationship with meb-”
“What are you mumbling about?” The man on the other line pauses, the pause goes for 5 minutes then a loud laugh erupts. This is the hardest Greg has ever laughed. “what… What is happening right now?”
“tell your wife I said hi”
Greg's breath hitches, his hand trembles almost dropping the phone. Alan just had to mention that dead woman. “No Alan please…seriously man I'm happy with my job and my cat just died and I'm vulnerable right now… you just… You fucking ruined my day. I'll do it, just leave me the fuck Alone.” his voice trembled, the man almost breaking down. “it was an accident”
Alan hangs up. He takes a deep exhale as he stares intensely at the white wall infront of him. As if suddenly weak in the knees, he sits back down staring into the middle distance, determination extinguished from his eyes.
He reaches for his pocket, his hands now trembled, nerve taking control. He finds what he's looking for_ a small trinket box. He snaps his eyes shut, deep breaths to calm his racing heart.
Breath. Breath… Breath…
“meh.”
He shrugs taking two pills from the trinket box and gulps them down. Definitively, he closes his palm on the box as those determined eyes snap back into existence and strides out, head held high…
“you one lucky son of a bitch!” Cole’s voice could be heard from the other side of the line. He's excited and curious. “like a thief leaving safely under the cover of darkness. You are a thief tho.”
Alan rolls his eyes as he opens his car door, he sits at the back seat comfortably, his driver starting the car. “told you there's nothing to worry about.”
“I was losing my shit..” Cole went on mumbling about things Alan couldn't bring himself to care about. He turned his phone off cutting the man mid sentence. Another call popped on, Ahh yes, Speak of the devil and he doth appear. It was only a matter of time before his daddy called.
Joseph Grant, a hot headed, determined, short tempered man and Alan just realized that he knows nothing about the man who raised him, if you could call that parenting.
His father spoke with the same old icy cold tone he spoke with everyone else, like everyone was lower than he is. “speak up.”
“you know, same old same accusations. Stealing the public money, laws. The stuff no one cares about.”
He could feel the man face-palm himself as he spoke to his son. “you got it solved?”
“affirmative.”
No further words were said. Both men hung up. Alan rested his head against the window, his eyes half shut as he drifted sleep…
Even though Joseph was a hard working man, he sued to be but he got things handed easily to him, he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. His grandfather wasn't just filthy, the legacy of Grant Industries Goes way back…
Washington, D.C. 1919
The impact of war extends beyond the physical reconstruction of cities. Loss of life, fractured families, and the encroaching darkness all cast a long shadow. However, amidst the bleakness, a glimmer of hope emerged.
While some choose to shield themselves from the painful reality, likening rebuilding the past to the translation of poetry—achievable, but not without difficulty—resignation was not an option for all.
The bustling streets of post-war city echo with the sound of progress, as a young and ambitious man, walks with purpose through the city. His eyes are alight with determination, and his mind teems with innovative ideas as he marched through the streets.
WORKSHOP -
Daniel sketches feverishly at his workbench, surrounded by gears, wires, and prototypes. He embodies the image of a man possessed by his own vision, driven to bring his revolutionary ideas to life.
Sleek automobiles, experimental medical devices, and cutting-edge weaponry.
GRANT INDUSTRIES - 1921
The gleaming facade of "Grant Industries" rises against the industrial landscape, a testament to Daniel's relentless pursuit of progress.
GRANT INDUSTRIES BOARDROOM - 1923
The newspaper headline reads "Grant Industries Propels Technological Advancements - A Visionary's Triumph." Daniel stands proudly, head held high as he checks his achievements - triumphant inventors, miraculous cures, and sleek, powerful machines.
GLOBAL SIGHTS - 1927
Headlines flash across the local news papers, "Grant Industries Goes Global,"
"Grant Industries Revolutionizes Warfare,"
"Grant Industries Heals the World."
“Daniel Grant: Billionaire is so last year”
GRANT FAMILY MANSION - 1947
Generations pass in the blink of an eye. The newspaper headlines transform holding the names of Daniel's kids and grandkids inhereting the industry.
Each grandchild, heir to the legacy of Daniel Grant, as they take the reins of the sprawling empire.
GRANT INDUSTRIES SKYSCRAPER -
The imposing headquarters of Grant Industries pierces the skyline, a symbol of wealth, power, and influence…
GRANT INDUSTRIES EXECUTIVE OFFICE -
the latest inheritor of the family dynasty. He reviews blueprints, studies market trends, and oversees the myriad divisions of the sprawling conglomerate.
WORLDWIDE CELEBRATION -
The news broadcasts a global celebration of the industry's centennial, honoring the enduring legacy of innovation and progress set in motion by Daniel Grant so many years ago.
GRANT INDUSTRIES BOARDROOM Grant industries 89th anniversary-2008
Joseph addresses a gathering of executives, his gaze reflecting the weight of his familial legacy and the responsibility it carries.
Joseph stands confidently, he speaks solemnly “We stand on the shoulders of giants, but it is our duty to reach higher than ever before.”
GRANT INDUSTRIES RESEARCH FACILITY -
Cutting-edge laboratories and state-of-the-art manufacturing facilities hum with the activity of scientists and engineers, forging new paths in technology and science.
GRANT INDUSTRIES EXECUTIVE SUITE -
A large framed portrait of Daniel Grant, the genius who sparked a revolution, hang on the wall. Joseph, surrounded by the trappings of success, gazes out of his window at the bustling metropolis below.
The world, shaped by the enduring influence of Grant Industries, stretches out before him, a testament to the visionary brilliance of his forebears. Grant industries have reshaped the whole world.