Elias felt a cold dread settle in his chest. "I want to go home. Where is this? Is this Chicago?"
"This is the lobby, Elias. And your orientation starts now." Gregory pushed a single sheet of paper across the desk. It wasn't paper; it was thin, cured vellum that felt warm to the touch. "Sign here, and you’ll be our Lead Acquisitions Officer for the Eastern Seaboard. You'll have power, wealth, and influence beyond your wildest dreams." "And if I don't?" Elias whispered.
"Your resume is impressive, Elias," Gregory said, tapping a folder that smelled faintly of ozone. "The way you handled the Springfield chemical spill—truly inspired. You convinced an entire town they weren't sick, they were just 'under-hydrated.'" Brimstone Incorporated
"At Brimstone Inc., 'just doing your job' is our corporate motto," Gregory smiled, showing too many teeth. "But we don't hire just anyone. Our clients are... demanding. They don't want settlements. They want souls. They want the kind of misery that ripples through generations."
"I was just doing my job," Elias stammered, his eyes darting to the window. Outside, there was no city skyline—only a swirling, orange-tinted fog that never moved. Elias felt a cold dread settle in his chest
Elias looked at the pen—a silver quill that looked like a bird's talon. He looked at the screaming darkness of the hallway. He picked up the pen.
Gregory gestured to the hallway behind them. From the shadows, the faint sound of a thousand telephones ringing—and a thousand people screaming in frustration—drifted into the room. "Then you join the Customer Service department. Permanently. They’ve been on hold since the 14th century." Is this Chicago
"Welcome to the team," Gregory purred as the office walls began to bleed. "Coffee is in the breakroom. It’s always boiling, and we’re fresh out of cream."