"Corporate Martyr"
Greg double-checked the device strapped to his waist one last time before buttoning his blazer and stepping out of the car. Doubts regarding the amount of explosive rushed through Greg's mind but he pushed them away and marched inside.
The Mill-Industries corporate headquarters was as busy as it was any other day. The front desk personnel each gave him a quick nod and a tight-lipped smile before returning to the endless ringing of the phones. The asocial environment of Mill-Ins had pressed Greg into a profound depression, today he was rather happy for the lack of attention.
He pressed on through the lobby toward the elevators. A few nameless office drones stepped aside as he approached, allowing him to step right to the front of the line. He felt the same guilt now that he had been feeling for years as he stepped in front of each of them.
"M-Mister Chairman." One young worker smile nervously and bowed her head as Greg stepped past. He didn't even know her name. He didn't know any of their names. They treated him with so much respect, like a king even, yet he had never done a single thing for them.
Until today. Greg placed one hand against the front of his suit jacket as he stepped into the open elevator. No one else joined him. The rest of the crowd waited silently in the lobby for the next lift. Greg gave the woman as cheerful a smile as he could muster as the doors slid shut between them.
The elevator car rose slowly but steadily picked up speed as it headed for the council boardroom. Greg looked out of the glass wall of the elevator over Mill-Ins' bustling offices. Did they know? Did any of them realize what their company was really up to, the loopholes and the offshore accounts? The cut-corners, the poisoned water, the lives spent as freely as money?
Perhaps they did know. Perhaps they were all just waiting for a vacancy up top, just hoping to climb the ladder and be sitting on top when everything eroded the ground out from beneath them. Was this really worth it? Would someone else just take up the reigns?
But it was too late for that now. The decisions were made. As the elevator rose through the last few floors, Greg knew there was no going back.
He stepped out of the elevator and took a long, deep breath. The executive secretary raised an eyebrow in his direction.
"They're already started, you can just head on in."
Greg nodded solemnly and quickly marched into the boardroom.
The room was quiet as Greg stepped inside. The 16 other board members glanced suspiciously toward him, ceasing whatever discussion had been occurring. The walk to his chair seemed to occur in slow motion, each step the heavy thud of a timpani echoing through the boardroom and shuddering in his chest. As he took the seventh step he rounded the end of the table and stopped.
Greg froze. He felt the weight of the device strapped to his waist, of the explosives stuffed into the inner pockets of his blazer. Of the other chairmen's eyes, of their confusion. Once more the doubt shivered through his mind, but this time he pushed it away without a hesitation. This would end today.
He pivoted on one heel, jerking about to face his fellow chairs. He slammed his fists down onto the boardroom table, spraying it with sweat in the process.
"Enough! Can't you see, this has to sto-"
Greg's words were cut short by a loud burst. His body crumpled to the table, further spraying it with sweat and blood. The man who had materialized from the shadows behind him returned his gun to his blazer, gave a single nod to the man seated at the far end of the table, and dissolved back into the shadowy corner.
The man the assassin had nodded to gave a grunt. "Really? Greg? Damn it. Well we'll have to make the best of it. Harris, have we got any scandals surfacing soon?"
"There's been some buzz about the slave labor in South America."
"Alright, well you know what to do. And make sure the sidewalk is clear this time. I don't want to pay another cent in restitutions this year."
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