15 years earlier.
2021 BCE
Dale City, Virginia, USA
"Brent Redman, come to office seven-B please. Brent Redman to office seven-B.", the intercom crackled.
Brent took a moment to arrange his materials and test tubes before he headed down the hallway. He didn't need to look up to know that his coworkers were staring at him with curiousity. They had good reason to be puzzled. Most of the lab technicians had only seen the office the day that they were hired, but this was the fifth time he had been called up this month.
Brent wasn't about to fill them in. Ever since he began working for the Health Research Initiative seven months ago, he only had one aim: he wanted to work on project Deadpan.
The HRI office would have been better labeled as the office conglomerate. Although there was a large room with the usual bland decoration, it was the twenty smaller rooms attached to the main office where the true business of HRI was enacted. Each door had an alpha-numeric delegation pasted on top of the cheap cloudy covers with which both of the full size windows had been accosted.
This was mostly likely done under the guise of protecting their clients privacy, but there was more than one source who claimed that HRI had plenty to hide as well.
The office door opened with ease and Brent quickly crossed the nearly vacant room to office 7B. Inside sat a heavy set man whose face seemed set in a permanent scowl. "Take a seat, Redman!", he barked. Brent slid into his seat and crossed his arms non-chalantly. He had expected this to be somewhat unpleasant. Even though the name badge on the desk read "Senior Resource Coordinator", Charles Mertle wasn't the top dog in this department, not by a longshot.
"Well, I suppose you're pretty pleased with yourself."
"What do you mean?", Brent replied innocently.
"Cut the crap, Redman! I know you submitted your transfer request to Mr. Pless! I already denied your request 3 different times. You just don't have the tenure to make that kind of move!"
"While my experience with HRI has been limited, I think you'll find my qualifications to be in line with what the experimental weaponry division is looking for."
"That's hardly the point. You need to wait your turn like everybody else! Stop trying to make me look incompetent!"
"I'm merely trying to help HRI put good use to my many talents. That includes removing any obstacles that keep me from doing so. If you're afraid of looking incompetent I suggest you do the job you're paid to do instead of looking to continue this pseudo hazing, sadistic ritual of holding back talent until you feel like it."
Charles' face flushed with anger. It was probably the first time he had experienced such blunt words from someone he considered to be beneath him. Brent didn't care in the least. If he was going to get to where he needed to be, the feelings of a middle level manager were hardly a concern. Charles had been rude and controlling from day one. If Brent was honest with himself he would admit that he was enjoying this bit of well earned revenge.
"YOU NEED MY RECOMMENDATION TO MOVE ANYWHERE YOU INSIGNIFICANT DINGBAT!", raged Charles, his voice near it's max.
"Oh dear", Brent said, oozing with sarcasm as he pulled out two letters. "I guess this letter of recommendation from Mr. Chris Pless pales in significance to your own. You'll find a letter of acceptance from the head of the experimental weapons division as well. Apparently he didn't realize he was supposed to wait for your divine holiness' stamp of approval."
Charles snatched the letters from his hand and quietly looked them over.
"Get out." He said with a strange mix of menace and exasperation.
"It was a pleasure working with you." Brent said with an insincere smile.
"Now!"
Brent meandered back down the hallway. That had been rather fun. More than he'd had in the past few months. It was truly the little things that made life so enjoyable, He surmised.
He was transferred at the start of his shift first thing in the morning.
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