After ten years of company service... Ten years of loyalty and leaving my entire life in the dust just so that the organisation could thrive...
I never expected to be where I am right now...
In a grey room where the only light seeps in from the dim yellow light hanging over us. I'm sitting on an awkward plastic chair, it's legs constantly fidgeting as if it's as terrified as I am. There's a table infront of me, and on the other side of that table is Brian.
Brian, my boss. Also the head of the hero organisation who I've worked with for a decade.
"Well, Vison, I bet you're wondering why I called you in here. After all, it's not like there's anything major going on in the world."
I nod along, today was the last day where I expected to be called to a surprise meeting. This was an intresting way to start my monday off.
Brian leans forward, elbows on the table, hands trembling slightly. His voice cracks—not much, just enough to betray what he's holding back.
"Vison… I don't want to do this. But it's already done."
He slides a thick file across the table. A pen rests on top. The seal of the Hero Organization is embossed in faint gold on the cover, almost mocking in how official it looks.
"You're no longer part of the company. Effective immediately."
"Ha." I start to pant, this makes no sense at all. Is it a joke? "Usually after ten years of service at a company you get a loyalty bonus or a reward of sorts-."
"This isn't your average company. We both knew that since the start Vison." Brian mutters, eyes on the ground. "Your time is up, the company doesn't want you anymore."
"So you're just going to cut me off like it's nothing?" I almost stand up, my hands quiver and clench, again and again. I can't accept this reality.
I take a deep shaky breath. I don't move. I just stare at the file like it might disappear if I blink hard enough.
"The world's at peace now. Your services were appreciated then but now we have no room for you in the company's future plans. So, you're fired."
"Because of what?," I ask, flatly.
Brian flinches. "Higher-ups made the decision. The reason why is confidential."
"Even to you?"
He doesn't answer. That silence is loud enough.
"You couldn't do anything to intervene?" I snap, he remains silent. His eyes hover to the waiver.
My eyes drop to the waiver. I know what it is before I even read it. Non-disclosure. Threat containment. I've seen versions of it pushed in front of villains, rogue agents, even former allies who got too close to classified projects. Now it's for me. Because I "know too much."
"There's a confidentiality clause," Brian finally says, voice strained. "You'll still be under surveillance for a while. Standard stuff."
My laugh is hollow. "After everything... you're still worried about what I might say? You really don't trust me do you. Did you ever trust me...? We've known each over for a decade for gods sake-."
Brian's eyes glisten. Not just moisture—actual tears. He looks at me like someone putting down a loyal dog.
"You kept this place standing more times than anyone will ever know," he says. "I wanted to keep you but-. It would just damage everything if I made the changes needed to keep you."
"Ha."
"You were eighteen when you arrived here, now a decade has passed." A tear goes down his face. "I'll miss you."
"Well you clearly won't be missing me that much." I mutter.
I look at him—really look at him. And for once, he doesn't seem like my boss. Just a tired man following orders he never wanted to give.
"Company's going in a new direction..." He mutters.
"Yeah, it's going straight to the bottom." I scoff, dragging the pen across the paper begrudgingly.
I sign. Not for him. Not for the higher-ups. Just to get out of that room before I fall apart.
The hallway is colder than I remember. I don't go back to my old locker. I don't say goodbye to anyone. I just walk. Past the security gates where the guard eyes me strangely and reports into a radio.
Past the empty reception. Out into the clean air of a city that no longer needs me. The sky is golden, the sun sinking down into the horizon.
I find myself in a public restroom, somewhere off 9th Avenue. It smells like bleach and loneliness. Graffiti marks the walls, every stall is open.
I stare at the mirror. For a moment, I don't even recognize the man in front of me. The sight blurs between a past me, that young eighteen year old who arrived at Elo, ready to make a real change. Now I see the man who made that change, but what was it worth?
All that work, just to be tossed aside like dirt. Like shit.
"I look... Horrible." I'm mortified by my own appearance. The mirror outlines all my imperfections.
Dark brown hair, messy—some of it clinging to my forehead with sweat. A short fade on the sides, grown out a little too long. Skin a little red in the wrong places. My suit hangs crooked on my frame, shirt unbuttoned at the top, tie askew like I forgot how to care. My maroon eyes, once sharp and bright in briefing rooms, are wet. Not from rain. Not from wind. Just tired tears that have been waiting ten years to fall.
I press both palms against the sink, breathing hard.
This is what the end looks like. That hero storyline was never a possibility for me, my power was made for decision making. My power was best used in strategy, for saving the world.
No explosion. No farewell ceremony. Just paperwork, a waiver, and a man crying quietly in a mirror he doesn't recognize.
I leave the bathroom sincerely, wiping my last tears away. My life is a mess, my purpose is dead, my eyes are still moist and red and itchy.
This entire world feels like a hassle, if I'm not saving the world, I'm just wasting away in it. I think and become gluttonous for a while, doing hobbies that I'd restricted myself from. Usually saving the world came first, but now, doing things to feed my cravings, my bad addictions, that was what gave me joy.
A week of shameless activities passes, and then on the 3rd of May 2025, I died.