13:48, Private residence of the Hyperion CEO, Hitam, Malivia
A bright light pierced the darkened bedroom of Psy Scott, the President, CEO, and Sole Proprietor of the Hyperion Corporation, as his personal servant, K.A.R.E.N., opened the door. She sightly scoffed at the ghastly sight of the room: clothes strewn every which way, half eaten plates of food piled high on the dresser, and dozens of used condoms and empty wrappers littered about; all messes she'd have to clean up. she stepped delicately around the piles of clothes, picking up smaller items and tossing them into the piles. Psy stirred in the large bed in the middle of the far wall, grumbling as he tried to shield himself from the light with a pillow. He groaned, turning onto his side.
"Piss of Karen, I'm not feeling it today," he mumbled as K.A.R.E.N. stepped to his bedside. "Besides, today's my day off." K.A.R.E.N. scoffed to herself, pulling the comforter off Psy.
"You're needed by the Foundation, Mr. President." She bowed slightly, as custom
"Needed my Ass!" he yanked the comforter from her and covered back up. "They act like they can't take a shit without me holding their hands! I'm not always going to be this young, they should know."
And you shouldn't be right now, K.A.R.E.N. thought to herself. She shook her head and grabbed several of the plates, making her way to the door. 'Well, whatever you feel about them, they need you at the meeting." She stopped halfway out the door. "Oh, and Chief Ananya needs to talk to you. Something about unauthorized persons getting access to the penthouse." She smirked a little and left.
"Yeah? Well fuck you too, KAREN!' He tossed a pillow towards her, the pillow missing, smacking against the door frame. "I was unaware the servants were giving the orders around here, now." He scoffed to himself as he uncovered.
14:30, Pantheon Complex, Hitam, Malivia
The congregation of approximately 50 fell silent as Psy Scott entered, the men and women standing straight where they were, as if he were a head of state. The twenty directors stood behind a long, semi-circular bench made of the finest mahogany, with thirty or so aides and press members facing the bench. Psy took a seat in a slightly over-sized chair situated in in the middle of the arch of the semi-circle, as if he were the keystone to the Pantheon Foundation.
"As you were, all," he said nonchalantly as he adjusted himself, everyone in the room taking a seat. Mark Surc, the CEO of Cyphrus Security and effective second in command, also took his seat beside Psy, turning to him.
"President Scott, welcome. First item up today is the surprisingly popular tv show, "Super Metz." Now, HSB doesn't want to show this but we've forced them too until you can give us your opinion. So, that's what I'd like to ask. How do you feel about this communist propaganda?"
Psy Scoffed a little. "Honestly, I love it. It's hilarious and quite entertaining. Not as much as the Pantheon Show, of course, but I see no reason why we should pull it from air." The board stared at him for a moment, their eyes wide in surprise. Psy looked at them and stood, pacing behind them. "I mean, think of just how hilarious it'd be to find the main villain of their show endorsing it! It'd completely defeat the purpose of the cartoon to begin with. And besides, I've looked at the ratings and holy shit! We're getting our name out there with all the people watching the bumpers we put on that damned show! Why ruin such a good thing?" He took his seat again. "So I'm in favor of keeping this show around. Anyways. All in favor of pulling "Super Metz" from the air?" No one raised their hand. "All Apposed?" All members of the Board raised their hands slowly, including Psy. "Case closed." He shuffled some papers and set them aside. "What's up next?"
Zhao Li, the Director and seated member of Dalibor, stood. "If you do not know, a group of socialists recently took control of my home, the Dalibor Corporate Association. Their members control sixty-three of the one-hundred and twenty seats in the Employee's Union, a complete, if slim, majority. So far, they have already tried four times to disassociate with both the Pantheon Foundation and even capitalism. If they are allowed to continue this triad, Dalibor will fall to the communists." He bowed slightly and took his seat.
Mr. Surc cleared his throat. "There have been reports that the 'Worker's Union' is tied to the defunct Proletariat Liberation Front, a finding that startles me, and I'm sure many more on the Board. I say we should ban them and call new elections. Mister President?"
"Honestly, why should we? Won't that just piss them off more and start another civil war?"
Mr. Surc turned to Psy. "The communists have been demoralized, if any are still alive, Sir. there's no way they can rise up again."
"Then, how did the socialists get sixty-three seats? If they're so demoralized, then why didn't the DFW get a vast majority of the vote?If we did such a good job then how are we in this situation?" the room fell silent, no one able to answer. "Exactly. They're still strong. Send them a message that if they don't accept the fact that they lost and star governing, the people will have their heads. Anyone else? No? Good. All in favor of banning the socialists?" four of the members, including Mr. Zhao, raised their hands. "Alright. All for sending them a message?" eight of the members and Psy raised their hands. "And there we go. Mr. Zhao, please draft a message to the Worker's Union and bring it to me once you're ready."
"Yes, Mr. President."