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“This building used to belong to a Google subsidiary, but after they downsized it we were able to get it with some of the grant money. Having our own dedicated space and servers has been big for efficiency and morale.” The young man in a hoodie and sweats had a massive smile on his face, still blemished with scars of acne. He beamed as he looked around the bright room, light from the wall sized windows filling its every corners. The dining area was currently vacant except for the two, the many tables of all sizes and shapes resting with their empty seats. A small black recording device lay on the table between Richard Shodd, the young tech CEO of Dufeel, and a brick shithouse of a man packed into a gray T-shirt and jeans, an orange and blue baseball cap over his silver locks and a white cloth eyepatch over his right eye.

[color=f1930f]“I can see that, quite the nice place. Was morale bad before you moved here?”[/color]

“N-no no no, of course not. We’ve got a lot of drive and passion, but working out of our college dorms in our free time is nothing compared to now. We have time to work, time to relax…most corporations would [i]kill[/i] to have more of their employees work for longer and cheaper, but we operate with higher pay and fewer hours. A lot of our facilities are just for socialization. Wanna see the game room?”

Slade held up his hand. [color=f1930f]“Later. Your method seems to work, considering you have a low turnover rate and a closely knit staff. Who are some of the big names on your team?”[/color]

Rick smiled, “Oh, they’re the best. Honestly the custodial team are the stars, they work the hardest around here. Francis and Mick: we couldn’t get by without them. Mehgan does a lot of the PR generally, Twi-er, ‘X’ posts, setting up interviews, such as with The New York Times.” He gave a knowing smile, to which Slade gave a slight nod. “Haoyu works on our net security and keeps our servers in line, Jack and Jawahar are our lead programmers and AI trainers. The twins, we call them, heh...never mind. Er, and I hold it all together. But, well, an ideas guy would be anything without a team good enough to actualize those ideas.”

Slade’s nostrils flared for a moment, but he kept on like nothing had happened. [color=f1930f]“Your AI models seemed promising to more than a few investors. Dufeel [i]is[/i] the smallest company to get funded for AI research. What are your ultimate aims?”[/color]

Demeanor shifting to one of confidence, Rick leaned back in his seat. “We work hard, we play hard. We work hard enough, we can play around for the rest of our lives. And if all goes well, we’ll free up thousands of people to leisure time. To make art and fulfill their souls instead of punching timecards.”

[color=f1930f]“Noble.”[/color] Slade said without missing a beat. Glancing around, he said, [color=f1930f]“We’ll start getting into your personal history soon, but first...we should take a look at the game room.”[/color]

Rick practically jumped out of his seat, leading his way to where the rest of the team would be at this hour. He burst with excitement over their state of the art rigs and spread of consoles, Slade lagging behind him, one hand opening a slight opening in the recorder, the useless device holding a small object wrapped in a white cloth. The other hand came from its pocket with a thin razor blade, digging into the end of the object like one might cut off the end of a cigar. The white cloth was stained red, before Slade withdrew a severed finger. His left eye spotting the vent above a janitor’s closet, it was only in his hand for moments before he flung it through the grate, Slade hacking out a slight cough at the exact moment it landed within some errant mop bucket. Tucking the bloody cloth out of sight, his other hand slipped a cell phone out of the back pocket, holding it there as the fingers traced a path, sizing it up. With a tap on the side and a thumbprint to unlock it, he hit the exact spot on the touch screen to send a prewritten message without a glance, only the memory. A part of him thought about how much easier it would have been on his normal, more primitive device that didn’t need to be hacked to keep it from listening in on him, with physical buttons of a much desired tactile feedback, but the message was sent regardless. Pocketing the phone again, he gave a vacant smile to the room of recent college grads as he was introduced.
[center]-----[/center][color=f1930f]Now.[/color]

Putting his phone down, Wade shook his head. [color=e04e4c]“Who puts punctuation in a one word text message? Fuckin nerd.”[/color]

Closing out the round of Clash Royale, the phone hit the concrete ground and slid a little as Wade hopped to his feet, clapping the nine fingers of his hands together, an index finger tightly bandaged at the knuckle where it had been severed. Red hoodie, black sweats, and heart print boxers hitting the floor, Wade shambled his walking scab of a body over to the yellow piece of heavy machinery on wheels, his only friend here in this dingy warehouse. [color=e04e4c]“Yeah, you’ll treat me right tonight, won’t you baby~”[/color] He pushed his thumb into the ignition, the space of the warehouse instantly filling with the scent of exhaust as the woodchipper let out its continuous giggle.

Stepping to face the input chute, he approached with a rhythmic pace, sultry tunes playing nowhere but his head, as he got closer and closer. Running a hand sensually down the edge, he leaned in- [color=e04e4c]“Jesus fucking christ I can’t even hear myself THINK.”[/color] Pulling away, he circled back around, shaking his hands and stretching his neck. Facing down the dark passage of grinding stainless steel, he slapped his cheeks (both sets) before breaking into a sprint. A yell of determination became the squeal of a little bitch boy as Wade swerved to the side, skidding to a stop.

Crawling over to the woodchipper, he leaned against the back wheel, the rumbling of the machine gently massaging his back. [color=e04e4c]“Baby I’m sorry. You’re too good to me. Because it’s not you, it’s me. I’m afraid. Afraid of commitment. You know what happened to my last flame. I’m...I’m not ready. I’m not ready.”[/color] Bald head flopping back, he sighed, [color=e04e4c]“What did Slade say again? Go head first so it won’t hurt, and jump in a way so that if you change your mind halfway it won't matter. Jeezus that’s really fucked up you sociopath bitch- why did I say yes to this? I don’t even know if my powers will work like this! Fuck you Slade! I could die you know! The fuck are you thinking?!”[/color] Burning with a fire, he scrambled over to his phone, only to slow his pace partway. He faintly mouthed, [color=e04e4c]“I could [i]die[/i].”[/color]

With a sprint and a leap, he headed off to the other side. Or, whatever that meant in this instance.