Odirb fidgeted as he sat in the soft plush chair. He hadn’t wanted to do it this way, but all the other avenues of pursuing that little shit Matthias had been met with dead ends. Dead ends that had been put in place and facilitated by none other than the CEO himself. Which is why he found himself in exactly that demon's office.

Argyle Trion, CEO of Trion Incorporated, was an Arch Demon of fathomless power. He was ancient when the cosmos were born, having been one of the few Outsiders that had wandered the void and decided to make this reality his primary residence.

For as long as it lasted that was.

The thin, pale Arch Demon was looking a bit haggard but the suit of souls he wore was as animated as ever. Odirb managed a nervous dry swallow as he watched the souls swirl in the deep navy of the suit, faces screaming out in silent agony appearing and disappearing as fast as he could identify them. What he missed, however, was that as he was studying the clothing he was being studied in return.

“So, Mr. Odirb, let me repeat this back to you so that I have a full understanding of the situation,” Argyle said slowly, enunciating each word slowly and carefully. “A prior employee of yours, one Matthias R. Mob, pulled one over on you in the form of several requisition forms allowing him to both abscond with materials and resources owned by Trion as well as escape the clauses of his indentured servitude?”

Nodding quickly but failing to respond with words, the Arch Demon continued, “On top of this you have wasted your time, Trion’s NEX, and resources petitioning to have him tracked and located so that you can personally lead a punitive force to either kill or capture him. Did I summarize that correctly, Mr. Odirb?” Argyle continued, staring down the nervous Daemon with cold, dead eyes.

“Y, y, yes Sir!” he replied, sitting at attention and practically saluting.

Argyle was silent for some time. He picked up a small stainless-steel cube off his desk and considered it for a moment. Twirling it in his hands for several seconds, he set it down with a harsh clinking sound. Folding his fingers, he leaned forward towards Odirb.

“Mr. Odirb,” he said slowly and clearly, “I will give you the opportunity you want. However!” he said cutting off the Daemons exclamations with a single raised pale finger. “You will pursue Mr. Mob using no more than five percent of your personal resources. You will take no longer than one year. Any and all resources you gather will be claimed by Trion. You will also take a ten percent pay cut. Do you wish to pursue this avenue… or would you like an alternative?”

In Trion pay was a factor of several things. This included your position, the NEX you were compensated with, your ability to garner better contract terms, and more. Taking a ten percent pay cut would put Odirb back decades of work. He couldn’t justify that… not now. Not when he was so close to upper management and the ability to run his own territory.

“Alternative?” the Daemon said meekly.

Argyle nodded. “An alternative. You see, you lack information and perspective about the situation Mr. Odirb. If you thought, for even a moment, that Mr. Mob was able to escape with Trion property without my blessing then you are sadly mistaken. Mr. Mob employed a shrewdness that is, frankly, unseen anymore. His maneuvering, backroom dealing, negotiation, and ability to hide as much as he did from you was nothing short of astounding.”

With every set of praises Odirb shrank further and further back into his chair, even as the CEO’s eyes became brighter with a blackness that threatened to consume everything around him. “I want to see how far Mr. Mob can go, and if he can become an asset for the Company. However, there is no growth like growth with targeted adversity. Thus, your alternative.”

Watching Odirb carefully, Argyle explained, “I will give you a Trion-sanctioned budget. You will use this budget to throw obstacles in the way of Mr. Mob. How, what, who, I don’t care. But you must remain within the constraints of the budget. If Mr. Mob ends up perishing or being unable to cope with such opposition then so be it. This alternative, however, will result in you being unable to pursue vengeance personally. At least for now. So, what say you Mr. Odirb?”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Yes Sir! I thoroughly like the sounds of that plan! Thank you, Sir!” Odirb gushed, happy that he was given a path forward.

“Yes. I am sure you are,” Argyle said dryly. “Back to your office now Mr. Odirb. I have other areas I need to employ my attention.”

The Daemon rose, gave a deep bow, and backed out of the room holding the bow. Once he was clear of the doorway the door slammed shut with an ominous boom. Sighing in exasperation Argyle rubbed his eyes. His powerful façade faded away until a tired-looking old man sat in the place where the immensely intimidating CEO once sat.

“I fucking hate middle managers. They think they know it all and can just make changes to everything around them. Parasites. Fucking parasites, the lot of them,” he grumbled. Holding out his hand a shadow being appeared next to him and handed him a report. He looked at it quickly, “Hmm. Earth Four and this Raymond fellow seem to be progressing well. No more reports of any additional Power storage devices being completed. What does Talla have to say?”

The shadowy being spoke, its deep voice clear and almost musical in tenor. “Talla reports that the group of survivors there has expanded. Your clearing teams provided an opportunity for them to begin altering their territory dramatically. An opportunity that was not entirely squandered. They have located a dungeon as well. The report covers that, but can be summarized by simply saying that Mr. Finnegan has entered into a pact with both the dungeon and the Dungeon Fairy there.”

“Fantastic. He seems to be another one we need to keep an eye on,” Argyle said excitedly. “What about Earth Eleven?”

“All but lost Sir. Less than a million humans remain alive there and the number dropping rapidly. The System was introduced, but it was too late to affect any stabilizing change. The Miasma has infected the world, poisoned the soil and water, and killed off anything that wanders out of the few remaining safe zones. The inhabitants have mostly turned to cannibalism, although a few enterprising individuals are utilizing summoning to bring creatures from other worlds to butcher,” the shade said.

Argyle sighed deeply. “Another Earth lost. This is not good Sharnax. Not good at all. If too many anchors are lost we may return to a pre-Entity level of existence. That would be bad. Maybe. But I am not willing to risk another reality being made after this one. Not willing to risk it at all,” he muttered the last bit to himself. “Send a dungeon seed to Earth Eleven and monitor the results. Speaking of results, any word from the Entity, Fate, or the High Administrator?”

“Yes Sir, and no Sir,” the shadow being known as Sharnax replied. “Silence from all upper echelons continues. The only word we have is the possibility that Mr. Finnegan may have received a letter of some kind. But this is unconfirmed,” it replied, stressing the word. “I can confirm, however, that the Void Hunters are active. They are seeking someone known as Grim, who apparently ambushed one of their Couriers and successfully stole a Shard of Reality.”

Argyle sat up, “He got one? And they haven’t found him?”

“No sir. He remains elusive to their efforts to find and capture him, and retrieve the shard,” Sharnax confirmed. “In fact, even our efforts to locate the man have failed. Every resource I have deployed has simply not managed to locate him, even the Seers of Falgar.”

“He is not in this reality then,” the Arch Demon replied confidently. “There is something far, far more interesting going on there than we are aware of. But there is nothing that we can do right now. Assign a full team to monitor the situation. Work with the Seer’s and let me know the very moment something develops.”

“As you wish Sir,” Sharnax replied, blinking his red eyes. The shadowed dissipated back into the wall.

Argyle sat there for a moment in silence, contemplating everything that had happened in such a short time. Between people finding odd ways to survive, dying worlds, games of vengeance, and new and unique resources being found the action never stopped. He looked at the unassuming cube on his desk. If Mr. Finnegan could figure out how to create more of these then maybe, just maybe, there was hope for this reality.

Shaking his head he got back into persona. His suit of souls became more vibrant, his skin less pallid and clammy. A knock on his door brought him to a straight-backed and aggressive posture. “Enter,” he said calmly but coldly. A succubus came into the room holding a clipboard, “Mr. Argyle, your four-thirty is here,” she said.

“Thank you, Gladys. Show them in,” he said with a small wave.

The succubus eyed him, blew a bubble with her gum, and waved the guest in. “Mr. Argyle will see you now.”

He almost sighed, but kept it locked behind his person of indomitable might. Eying the Lich and the cigar it was smoking as it walked in he couldn’t help but make a mental roll of his eyes.

His work was never done.