The suit felt itchy, Mathias never did like the formal attire his dad was prone to wear. It restricted his movements, made him sweat and felt contrary to all that he stood for. But if he ever could have a sliver of chance with his father, he had to look in a way he would deem professional. His hair was done by a stylist, he trained his movements with instructors, aiming to appear rational and calm. He prepared all he could…

But his hard-built composure ran away the moment he entered the glass elevator. His fingers were twitching when he pressed the button with the number hundred-forty-eight.

The elevator had begun its ascend and Mathias's stomach threatened to empty itself out. With difficulty, Mathias managed to swallow the influx of spit in his mouth. Breathing slowly, he grabbed his shirt where his heart tried to leave his chest. His legs felt as if a hundred ants where skittering over them and numb at the same time. Lost in his stress Mathias almost didn’t realize that he was at his destination.

Before him was a big black door, with a name etched in gold. Frank Paul Evergreen. Mathias straightened his tie as well as his resolve, and opened the door.

The bald CEO was in the midst of reading over his documents, when he noticed his son walking to his office. His mahogany desk was unnecessarily huge, with only a small pile of documents in the middle. A big blue screen hovered before Mathias's father, numbers and words flowing in charts and walls of text. The room was otherwise devoid of life. Only a few all-white pieces of furniture here and there, just to break up the enormous space.

Mathias walked over to the desk and sat on a chair. He exiled his chaotic thoughts with a long exhale and looked at the man before him.

"Father."

Only then did his father acknowledged his presence, his eyes lazily shifting from the documents to his son across.

"Nice to see you again son," he said dryly, his face betraying no sign of the sentiment. The expression he wore was neutral to the very essence of the word. No sign of a smile or a frown. No sign of an opinion showing on his face. It was hard for Mathias to look into those dead eyes hidden by a small pair of glasses. "For what do I owe this visit."

"I've come to discuss something of great importance."

His father let go of the documents, joining his hands on the desk. His gaze unwavering and focused on Mathias.

"Do explain."

Mathias met his father's eyes with all the courage and resolution he possessed and then he plunged into his speech. He mentioned Rogue City, he it's history, as a bastion for those escaping from war. He mentioned the greats and heights that were achieved in the city and its dominance across the barren plains. Slowly gaining confidence in his presentation as his voice grew in power. Then he asked what about the common folk. He told his father of his dreams, of what he believed was achievable. He told him of the security force he planned up, of the workings of their station. He proposed where and with what it could be done. He finished with the mention of his mother, of what could have been different, had this force been implemented earlier.

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His father did not seem shaken. His son's speech and the mention of his late-wife failing to show any signs of distress on his face.

"Idealism is a good thing son, if taken in small doses," he began, unfolding his hands and picking his document back up. "But here it helps none. Rogue City as you sure know, has had a number of similar forces, composed by either volunteers or paid operatives. None had survived for longer than a month in the city. Additionally, these forces were and are expansive and money for such a ventures is better spent elsewhere. He finished, put on his small glasses and started to read the document again. As if he forgot about Mathias's presence already.

"You are wrong…" whispered Mathias, but his voice either failed to reach his father's ears, or had been filtered out in his mind. He remembered what his father used to be like. The man that climbed the corporate ladder not out of greed, but out of principle. The man that swore to change the ways in which the ruling class acted, that upheld his rules and virtues. The man whose husk was reading a paper.

Mathias's thoughts turned angry, his cheeks reddened and his hands balled into fists.

"You are wrong," he half-shouted at his father, who showed the first emotion Mathias saw in years, surprise. "This would help plenty. Maybe not with your aimless climb to the top of these soulless companies. But it would help normal people."

"Watch your tone boy," said Frank with a newly-found anger. "Remember who you are talking to."

"To a shell of a man, that worries for naught but profit! To a sleazy and slimy businessman that has no time to spend on living. To the man that always looked upward, so much so he forgot what the ground looks like!"

"You are forgetting yourself," the anger was slowly vanishing from Frank's face "You never have been to the ground. I pay for everything you do, you need, you use. You have never done anything with your life and you never will. You are a substance abuser a horrible speaker and a disappointment to both me and your late mother."

Mathias was hit by his father's words like a truck. Anger, sadness and hurt coming together to create something brand new inside his heart. His loud thoughts, coming up with rebuttals and replies were slowly silenced out, his twitching replaced with a calm demeaner.

"You are right I am these things," he exclaimed slowly. "And that is something that has to change." He stood up and walked around the desk. For once, his father's attention was completely fixed onto him, but he didn’t care. Slowly he rounded the corner of the desk. Slowly did he reached the seat and slowly he put his hand on the back of his father's head.

"What are…" his father tried to speak, but his speech was broken by the collision of his teeth and the desk. Again and again Mathias banged with his head. Wrath lending his arms a strength and force he never used before. He didn’t stop when blood started to rain and he continued long after his father's limbs vent limp.

That day, an old man and a young boy entered a room, but only a young man left. That day, the young man inherited a company. That day Mathias Evergreen took the fate of the city to his own hands.