by Adam Clark
***
Grigor could hear the sirens of an ambulance on the streets far below the Helipad. The soundpierced through the howling wind that assaulted the top hat landing pad, someone was obviously intent on wasting his hard paid taxes on some fancy thing called 'medical treatment'. This irritated Grigor more than the annoying music they play in elevators.
Where he came from you either manned up or died, there was no middle ground called ‘getting medical help’ or a ‘recovery period’. This would probably explain why he was one of the last of his clan left.
He started to roll over towards the large double door that led from the landing pad into the building. He’d covered half the distance from where he’d landed to the door when it exploded outwards in a flaming ball of fire. Grigor didn’t flinch and instantly started sprinting the last of the distance to the now destroyed double door, brushing the flames and debris out of the way as he passed through them.
Several zombie-ninjas came flipping out of the hole where the door used to be towards the very fast travelling Grigor. They were spinning through the falling debris of door bits, each brandishing master crafted katana swords, but they never got a chance to use them, let alone reach the floor. “This is no challenge” Grigor shouted as he cut all of them in half with one running swoop of his broadsword, stopping just before the doorway.
The recently doubled ninja-zombie parts exploded, spraying zombie ninja parts all over the ground and off the side of the skyscraper. Grigor dusted off ninja-zombie organs from his suit, and pulled parts of door out of his beard. Then he stepped in through the rubble of the roof-top entrance to the skyscraper.
“Hello Mr Grigor” Said the building’s artificial intelligence from one of the less demolished screens that now hung from various angles around the flaming and battle scarred foyer. “I hope you’re having a lovely day, there is a memo for you, would you like me to read it you now?”
“Ok” Grigor grunted in reply as he stepped over several on-fire, upturned potted plants that littered the area. Two more Ninja zombies leapt at him from the shadows in a sneak attack attempt, but he punched the closest one so hard it flew into the second one, where they both hit the wall and subsequently produced a mighty explosion.
“Mr Skwisfellgarr would like to remind you to get those TPS reports handed in as soon as possible, apparently he's been waiting on them for a while and as such productivity levels are dropping considerably.” The AI droned on obliviously.
“Send him a memo back suggesting that he do his own damn fucking TPS reports” Grigor growled while ducking out of the way of two hundred thundering throwing stars that were being thrown by several more assailants who had appeared gracefully and silently out of a ceiling air vent. These throwing stars completely destroyed the last fully standing coffee machine. Grigor's anger levels had just been elevated from really fucking pissed off to blood roar angry, which was actually a measurable scientific unit.
He threw this last coffee machine into the final group of zombie-ninjas, which exploded on impact. Then he stormed his way to the CEO's office, smashing all of the undead, overly sensitive walking time bombs of significant martial arts skill he met along the way.
The walk was unsurprisingly, very eventful, at almost every corner he was ambushed or attacked. He made his way through the grey soul-sucking cubicles, then out into the management offices, with their large internal windows that provided a great way to keep an eye on the numerous employees penned in the cubicle area. He then travelled down a passageway that led to a stone staircase. The ceiling stayed at the same height all the way along this staircase, creating a cavernous hallway where the staircase stopped. At the end of the hallway was a floor to ceiling double door, framed on either side by torchlight braziers held in wall brackets. The door was ornately engraved with dragons, kings, mountains and epic battles. It was small things like this that reminded the Barbarians, who ran the company, of home.
At the grand double doors of the great chamber of Lord Evegart he could hear loud fighting and shouting happening from inside. Slumped at the foot of the door was the temp worker who had only just started working in the printer room that past Monday. Whether or not he could still use a printer without legs didn't matter to Grigor, he'd seen plenty of men man-up from worse.
Turning his attention to the big mahogany double doors, he kicked them open with such force at least thirty women in the surrounding area suddenly found themselves pregnant.
The scene on the other side of the door was dramatic to say the least, exploded zombie-ninja parts were everywhere and Lord Evegart was fighting off insurmountable odds of zombie-ninjas. His five foot long flowing white beard was swirling around like a tornado while his great battle-axe spat lightning through every foe he downed. In his other hand was the phone.
“Yes, I need the usual, yes, send the cleaners, we'll need the architects as well, and the fire team, and possibly call the burns unit. Argh, I'LL TEACH YOU FOR MESSING WITH THE POWER OF GREYSKULL! Oh no, sorry about that, I wasn't talking to you Janice. How are the kids?”
While Evegart spoke the ninja-zombie group got smaller and smaller. There was a reason why Evegart was the leader of the Viking bankers. He soon finished off the last of the group he was fighting, while Grigor beheaded the few stragglers that were trying to flee through the doors.
When the final head exploded and left a fiery pile of ash on the floor, Evegart sat down in his throne of flaming boobies.
“Sit down Grigor,” he said while motioning to the seat that faced his desk “the others are mopping the last of these amateurs, we have business to conclude.”
Grigor proceeded to move towards the open mouth of a Nordic dragon skull that now had the privilege of being a most impressive room set piece. It faced Evegart's gigantic obsidian desk, the seat was specifically designed to remind anyone who sat in it the inevitable mortality of life. A long row of sharp teeth hung just above head height as Grigor sat on the plush crimson cushion that replaced the dragon's long silenced tongue.
As he soon as he was down, several cleaners and repairmen came out from hidden doorways set into the floor to ceiling bookcases that lined the walls. Within minutes the efficient team had returned the room to its amazingly intimidating original state, even the dark marble floor had been polished within no time at all.
“Let’s start Grigor,” said Evegart in a voice that would make thunder go crying to its mother, “I have an important job for you, we have an opportunity to expand our company and I want you to head up the division in charge. We are going to expand into the new world; our latest land to conquer in a financial capacity will be New Zealand.” This visibly angered Grigor. “Calm down, world war five is over. We need to embrace this change, they control almost the entire east now.”
How on earth the superpowers in the west overlooked that a country with a population of only four million would need fifty million sheep with no ulterior motives was beyond Grigor. But the thought of the ensuing bloodbath lowered the temperature of even his ice cold blood. However, he was one of the best financiers in the galaxy, and no challenge was too big for him. “I'll do it” he growled back.
“As a sign of trust with the country I’m also installing the Heart of the Dragon King there. As you’ve seen we’re also under attack regularly, this is the second time this month these clowns have tried getting the Heart. As such the new headquarters has an impenetrable basement, it should be much safer there.”
“Are you sure? The Heart is the most powerful object in the universe. What about transit? That’s surely a point where someone will strike to get it.” Grigor asked.
“I’ve already got our strongest warriors on it, they should be heading off in about a month by aerolift. Will you be ready to leave about then? You have your own ship right?”
“Yeah I do, my crew should be able to get everything ready by then. I’ll need someone to cover for those TPS reports while I’m gone though”
“Sir, can I ask a, um, bold question?” Grigor asked, unsure of his words and the sensitive nature with which he was planning to approach this subject. “It’s my men, I mean, it’s definitely not an issue, but they’re a little bit afraid, of this audit we‘re having.”
“Grigor, fear is not always a weakness, just the right amount can sharpen the senses.” Evegart got up and walked behind his chair to look out of the huge window that comprised of the entire rear wall. Hands behind his back, his head high, he spoke to Grigor while facing away from him. “It is true, we will most definitely lose a few good men. But none will have given their positions in vain. We will fight this audit until the last man if we have to.” The sadness in his voice was palpable.
“Some of the men have already informed their wives and children. I know Gorgoth the Man-crusher has his desk cleared already just in case. Yesterday I saw him catch a tear just before it became lost in his beard. He thinks no one saw, but I did, morale is low sir, what should I do?”
Evegart turned around and looked at Grigor with a determined stare. “There is only one thing you can do.” He opened his laptop and swiveled it to face Grigor. “You’re going to have to forward this picture of a kitten dressed up like Mr. T to everyone in the department.”
“I didn’t realise it had come to that,” Grigor said taken aback. “I thought… is there not another way?”
“No, this is the only way. This is our last chance, do you understand?”
“Yes, but those things are so annoying, and I’m going see it every time someone replies.” Grigor lamented.
“Someone has to send it, and I believe in you Grigor, you’re a strong financier, I know you can take your mailbox being full of this spam for a week. Something a lesser man couldn’t cope with.”
“That is true sir, I am their leader, and if sacrificing my mailbox is what needs to be done to fight this audit, then consider it done.” He stood up saluted, and turned around running out of the humongous office screaming. “You can send me junk mail, but you can never take my freedom…”
Evegart saluted in the screaming figure as it sprinted out of his office, there goes the bravest man I have ever met, he thought to himself proudly.