The hum of machinery was a constant in Rook Enterprises. Dorian Cooper stood at his workstation, a sleek, metallic counter littered with half-disassembled drones, worn-out circuit boards, and tools meticulously arranged in a way that reflected his years of experience. The air smelled faintly of burnt metal and oil, mingling with the sharp, sterile scent of the corporate sanitizers that kept the floor pristine. Despite the chaos on his desk, everything had a purpose, a place.

The vast expanse of the tech floor stretched around him, a hive of activity where dozens of workers, clad in gray jumpsuits, moved with mechanical precision. The floor was illuminated by the pale, blue artificial glow of overhead lights, casting long shadows that flickered as sparks flew from welding stations. Monitors lined the walls, each displaying streams of data, blueprints, and performance metrics. Supervisors roamed the aisles, their gazes sharp, always searching for inefficiency.

Dorian tightened the grip on his soldering iron, the tool’s tip glowing orange as he carefully fused a set of wires on a drone’s motherboard. He worked with a practiced ease, his mind half-focused on the task while the other half wandered, thinking of Kite.

It had been a long week, and Dorian’s back ached from the relentless hours of bending over his workstation. The corporation demanded perfection, precision, and above all, results. Mistakes weren’t tolerated here; they were punished. He’d seen it too many times, a coworker escorted off the floor, their station cleared within minutes, as if they’d never existed.

The thought gnawed at him as he glanced at the clock mounted high on the wall. It was nearly time for his break. Dorian’s fingers moved deftly, his eyes narrowing as he connected the last wire. The drone’s eyes flickered to life, a pair of cold blue lights glowing faintly as it hovered a few inches off the table.

“Good,” he muttered to himself, setting the drone down and stepping back to wipe his hands on a cloth. As if on cue, a voice crackled through the overhead intercom, cold and devoid of emotion. “Sector B employees, prepare for inspection. Supervisors, report to stations for evaluation.”

Dorian tensed, his jaw clenching. Inspections were always tense, a performance where your livelihood was put under a microscope. He straightened his posture and adjusted his jumpsuit, running a hand through his graying hair. His eyes flicked to the drone on his desk. It would pass inspection; he made sure of it, but there was always a lingering doubt.

The sharp clack of boots echoed across the floor as a team of supervisors entered Sector B. At their center was a man Dorian knew all too well: Vincent Marlow, the head of the tech division. Marlow’s presence was like a storm cloud, dark and oppressive, his sharp features and piercing eyes giving him an air of unyielding authority. He strode with purpose, his black suit immaculate, his every movement precise.

Dorian stiffened as Marlow approached, his cold gaze sweeping over the workers like a hawk. The man stopped at Dorian’s station, his eyes falling on the drone. “Caulder,” Marlow said, his voice a smooth, icy baritone. “Status?”

“Model D-47 operational,” Dorian replied, keeping his tone neutral. “Repairs completed; systems optimized.” Marlow leaned in, inspecting the drone with a critical eye. He reached out, his gloved fingers brushing against the surface of the machine, his expression unreadable. Dorian held his breath, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

“Efficient work,” Marlow said after a moment, straightening. “But don’t get complacent. Perfection is expected here, Caulder. Nothing less.” “Yes, sir,” Dorian replied, his voice steady despite the knot in his stomach.

Marlow’s gaze lingered for a moment before he moved on, his attention shifting to the next workstation. Dorian exhaled quietly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

As Marlow’s entourage moved further down the aisle, Dorian allowed himself a brief moment to glance at his reflection in the polished surface of his workstation. His face looked tired, lined with stress and sleepless nights. He thought of Kite again, his son, his world.

Every grueling hour spent in this place was for Kite, to give him a chance at something better. But in the back of his mind, a voice whispered doubts. Was he doing enough? Was he truly protecting him from the dangers of this city, from the shadow of Rook Enterprises that loomed over their lives?

The intercom crackled again, announcing the end of the inspection. Workers returned to their tasks, the hum of machinery resuming its rhythm. Dorian sighed, picking up the next piece of broken tech on his desk. Above him, on a screen tucked into the corner of the ceiling, the Rook Enterprises logo glowed, a sleek, stylized black crow in flight. Beneath it, the company motto scrolled across in bold white letters: Innovation Above All.

Dorian stared at it for a moment, his fingers tightening around the tool in his hand. For the thousandth time, he wondered what price he and others were paying for that innovation.

The cafeteria buzzed with subdued energy, a sharp contrast to the sterile hum of the tech floor. Dorian stepped into the line; his tray balanced in one hand as he surveyed the options before him. The food wasn’t much to look at, prepackaged meals warmed in bulk with rook emblems stamped on, their bland aromas mixing with the sharp scent of disinfectant that permeated every corner of Rook Enterprises. Workers shuffled forward; their faces worn with the same exhaustion Dorian felt creeping into his bones.

The overhead lighting cast a faint blue hue across the room, giving the metallic surfaces an otherworldly glow. Holographic displays lined the walls above the serving stations, their animations cycling through corporate propaganda: smiling employees, sleek new products, and the ever-present company motto “Innovation Above All” flickering in bold letters.

Dorian's eyes caught one of the displays. A family was featured, parents and a young child, smiling and carefree as they marveled at the advancements Rook had brought to their lives. It felt hollow, mocking even, given the grim reality outside these walls. He tore his gaze away, focusing instead on the food.

The line crept forward. A bored server slid a portion of grayish protein paste onto Dorian’s tray with a practiced motion, followed by a scoop of overcooked vegetables. The vegetables had a strange sheen under the light, and Dorian’s stomach turned, though hunger gnawed at him too insistently to refuse.

“Next,” the server said without looking up, already reaching for the next tray. Dorian sighed and moved on, grabbing a bottle of water before weaving his way through the tightly packed rows of tables. The cafeteria was a sea of gray jumpsuits, each worker hunched over their meal, voices blending into a constant murmur that barely rose above the hum of ventilation systems. Despite the crowd, the room felt cold, impersonal, like a machine in and of itself.

In the far corner, Dorian spotted his two friends, Greg and Theo, already seated at their usual spot. They were laughing about something, the sound cutting through the monotony of the room. Greg, a burly man with a thick beard and an easy grin, gestured animatedly with a fork, bits of food flying as he spoke. Theo, A chimera with catlike attributes, was lean and wiry with sharp features and glasses that constantly slipped down his nose, was shaking with laughter, his tray nearly tipping over from his exaggerated movements.

Dorian navigated through the maze of chairs and trays, careful not to bump anyone. He finally reached the table, sliding into the empty seat with a nod. “Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Greg said, smirking as he stabbed at a piece of unidentifiable meat on his plate.

“Busy man,” Theo added, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Fixing the drones that are supposed to replace us someday, right?”

Dorian chuckled dryly, setting his tray down. “Something like that. Can’t let Marlow catch me slacking, though. You know how it is.”

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Greg snorted. “Marlow’s got a stick so far up his ass, he probably files performance reviews in his sleep.”

That earned a laugh from Theo, who nearly choked on his water. “God, don’t say that. I’ll start imagining him dreaming about spreadsheets and quarterly reports.”

Dorian managed a faint smile as he picked at his food, their banter a welcome distraction. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he forced down a few bites, the texture as unappetizing as he’d expected. Around them, the cafeteria continued its rhythm, the holographic displays casting shifting patterns of blue light across the tables.

As Greg launched into another story about his run-in with a temperamental vending machine on the upper floor, Dorian let his gaze drift. The blue glow reflected off the metal walls, the hum of machinery never fully fading, even in the break areas. It was a reminder that this place was a well-oiled machine, every cog, himself included, expected to perform without fail.

The weight of it all pressed against him, but for now, he focused on the laughter of his friends and the few moments of reprieve their company offered. Dorian toyed with his fork, pushing the gray protein paste around his plate as Greg leaned back in his chair, a proud grin spreading across his face.

“You won’t believe what my kid did the other day,” Greg started, his booming voice cutting through the hum of the cafeteria. He tapped the table with his fork for emphasis, his expression softening in a way that seemed almost out of place in the cold corporate cafeteria.

Theo perked up, adjusting his glasses as he leaned forward. “Oh, here we go. Another ‘my kid is a genius’ story? Lay it on us.”

Greg chuckled, waving the fork like a conductor's baton. “I swear, this one’s good. So, Ethan’s been obsessed with building stuff lately, like, really into it. He found some old junk in the garage last weekend, wires, scrap metal, broken circuits, and you know what he did? Built a freaking motorized car for his action figures. The thing actually runs! I mean, it’s slow as hell, but still, he’s six!”

Theo whistled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Six and already better at engineering than half the people on the assembly floor.”Greg laughed, his chest puffing with pride. “That’s what I’m saying! Kid’s a damn prodigy. He’s got his mom’s brains for sure. I’m just the guy who cheers him on from the sidelines.”

Dorian couldn’t help but smile faintly at the image, though his chest tightened. He kept his gaze fixed on his plate, pretending to focus on his next bite as Theo chimed in.

“Speaking of prodigies, Mia’s got her first recital coming up,” Theo said, his voice tinged with excitement. “She’s been practicing like crazy, piano, you know. I barely recognize the house anymore; it’s all scales and melodies every time I walk in. But, man, it’s worth it. You should’ve seen her face when she got the solo part.”

Greg raised an eyebrow. “Solo already? How old is she again?”

“Seven,” Theo replied, his grin matching Greg’s. “But she plays like she’s been at it for decades. She’s got this focus, you know? Like nothing else matters when she’s at the keys. It’s...it’s incredible to watch.”

Greg let out a low whistle. “Sounds like you’ve got a future maestro on your hands.” “Maybe,” Theo said, his smile faltering just slightly as he glanced down at his hands. “Just hope she doesn’t lose that spark, you know? It’s tough, keeping them inspired in a city like this.”

There was a brief pause, the air between them growing heavier despite the light-hearted topic. The hum of the cafeteria filled the silence, punctuated by the occasional clatter of trays and murmured conversations from the other tables.

Dorian finally looked up; his throat dry as he forced himself to speak. “They sound amazing. Both of them.”

Greg and Theo turned to him, their smiles genuine but tinged with curiosity. “Thanks, Dorian,” Greg said, his tone warm. “What about you? How’s Kite doing?”

The question hit like a punch to the gut, though Dorian did his best to mask it. He sat back in his chair, his hand tightening around his fork. “He’s...he’s doing fine,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended. “Smart kid. Always has his nose in something, projects, books. Keeps to himself a lot.”

Theo nodded, his gaze softening. “Sounds like he takes after you.” Dorian chuckled faintly, though it lacked humor. “Maybe. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, at least. Just wish I could... you know, be around more. This place takes up so much time.”

Greg clapped him on the shoulder, his grin fading into something more understanding. “Hey, you’re doing what you can. Providing for him, giving him a shot in this screwed-up city. That’s what matters.”

Dorian nodded, though the words didn’t bring much comfort. His thoughts drifted to Kite, to the distance that seemed to grow between them with each passing day. He wondered if Kite felt it too, if he resented it.

“I just hope he knows that” Dorian muttered, more to himself than to the others. “He does,” Theo said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Kids know when they’re loved, even if we don’t always get to show it the way we want to.”

The table fell silent for a moment, the three men lost in their thoughts. Around them, the cafeteria continued its rhythm, the blue holographic displays flickering as they cycled through the same messages.

Greg broke the silence with a chuckle, picking up his fork again. “Anyway, enough of the heavy stuff. You’ve got a genius in the making at home, Dorian. One of these days, Kite’s going to blow us all away.”

Dorian forced a smile, nodding along as the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. But the weight in his chest remained, a constant reminder of the unspoken truths that lingered beneath the surface.

The hum of the cafeteria settled into an uneasy quiet as a subtle chime echoed through the room, signaling an incoming announcement. Workers paused mid-conversation, some with forks halfway to their mouths, as the holographic displays on the walls shimmered and shifted. The corporate emblem of Rook Enterprises, a sleek, stylized black bird in flight, now filled the screens. A smooth, authoritative voice followed the chime.

“Attention, valued employees,” the voice began, calm and calculated.Dorian glanced at the others at the table. Greg and Theo had stopped talking, their expressions souring. Around them, a low murmur rippled through the crowd, workers exchanging wary glances.

“This can’t be good,” Greg muttered under his breath, setting his fork down.The voice continued. “This is Rook, your CEO, speaking. First, I want to extend my gratitude for your tireless contributions to Rook Enterprises. Your efforts drive our success and innovation every day.”

The words dripped with hollow sincerity, and a few sarcastic scoffs broke the silence.Dorian’s eyes flicked to one of the displays, where Rook’s image replaced the company logo. The CEO appeared as he always did during these broadcasts: perfectly composed, his tailored black suit unwrinkled, his silver hair slicked back with precision. His sharp eyes and subtle smirk radiated an aura of control that bordered on unsettling.

“As part of our ongoing initiative to streamline operations and maximize efficiency,” Rook continued, “we will be implementing some structural changes effective immediately.”The murmurs grew louder, tinged with unease. Theo frowned deeply, his hands clenching into fists on the table.

Rook’s smirk widened slightly, as if he could feel the tension even through the screens. “To better allocate resources, shifts on the production and repair floors will now be extended by an additional two hours. Compensation adjustments will be communicated to you in due course.”

A chorus of groans and whispered curses erupted throughout the cafeteria. Some workers slammed their trays down in frustration, while others muttered darkly under their breath. “Unbelievable,” Greg hissed, shaking his head. “Two more hours, just like that?”

Theo leaned forward, his voice low and biting. “And ‘compensation adjustments’ means what? A pat on the back? This guy’s a parasite.”

Rook seemed undeterred by the audible discontent. His voice remained steady, almost patronizing. “I understand that change can be challenging, but these measures are essential to ensure Rook Enterprises remains the leader in cutting-edge technology. Together, we will continue to innovate and thrive.”

Someone in the back of the room muttered loudly enough to be heard, “Yeah, thrive while we rot.” It drew a few stifled laughs, though the tension remained palpable.

Rook’s tone shifted, growing colder. “I trust that each of you will rise to meet these expectations with the same dedication and resilience that defines the Rook Enterprises family. Remember: the work we do here is not just for today, but for the future we are building together.”

The broadcast ended abruptly, the logo returning to the displays as the cafeteria filled with bitter conversations. “This is getting ridiculous,” Theo growled, his face red with anger. “Two more hours? Like we’re not already working ourselves to the bone.”

Greg shook his head, his jaw tight. “Yeah, and for what? Barely enough creds to get by while Rook lines his pockets.” Dorian stayed quiet; his gaze fixed on his plate. The announcement gnawed at him, not just because of the extra hours but because of what it meant for Kite. Less time at home. Less time to bridge the growing gap between them.

“Hey,” Greg said, nudging him with an elbow. “You good, Dorian?” He nodded slowly, though his mind was elsewhere. “Yeah. Just...thinking.”

Theo scoffed, gesturing toward one of the displays. “Don’t waste your energy on that bastard. He doesn’t care about us, never has.”

Dorian looked up, his expression hardening. “Maybe not, but this...this isn’t sustainable. Something’s got to give.”

Greg and Theo exchanged a glance, their frustration mirrored in their eyes. Around them, the cafeteria buzzed with the simmering anger of a workforce pushed too far. Yet even amidst the discontent, there was a sense of resignation, a reminder that in this world, rebellion often came with a heavy cost.

Dorian leaned back in his chair; his fists clenched under the table. In the back of his mind, a thought began to form, a dangerous, unspoken truth: they couldn’t keep living like this. Something would have to change.