4 Prime Comic Company
The duo had lots of fun in the large heavenly lounge and that's when Ares noticed Yohan's blue-green eyes up close. During the day, he wore transparent reading glasses, however, one hardly noticed his eye colour. Ares stared at the pair of clear eyes that held tranquillity in them questioningly.
As if reading his mind, Yohan patiently explained, "I only see clearly without glasses at night and during the day, I can't see without them."
His explanation somehow didn't click an alarm in his mind as he speechlessly stared at him. Yohan shook his head helplessly and flicked Ares's forehead, "You surely are dumb and dense!"
"Ouch! cut it out! You'll make me dense if you keep flicking my head," muttered Ares, rubbing the spot he was flicked.
A few moments later, Ares exhaustedly slumped on the blue sofa. He had ridden the bike, surfed on the road track, and played all kinds of video games. Those he knew, those he didn't and it was all thanks to Yohan. He simply made his birthday and every birthday of his became like a mystery he looked forward to.
He had lost track of time yet he felt like the day had just begun. He downed the fifth or sixth glass of the low-alcoholic-content drink at the table, already tipsy and feeling like the day had just begun yet it was well past midnight.
Ares had raced to his heart's content, playing video games, some of which he knew and the others which he didn't. He got to see the hidden tech gadgets in the new heaven on earth he ventured.
All thanks to Yohan who made his day and not only just a day but his birthday. The feeling of experiencing such a thrilling birthday made him look forward to the rest of the birthday. Each birthday is a new gift and another mystery to crack.
Ares didn't know how many glasses he had drowned down but he had already lost grasp of reality. He didn't know how and when but he felt someone lift his body and that's the last thing he reckoned.
[October 8th, year XXX ]
**Prime Comic Company**
A stoic-faced man sat in a large wheeled office chair. His features old and young at the same time despite his old age bestowed with a dark pair of degrading proud sharp orbs.
He had his hands placed beneath his chin while he stared at a file before him. A frown of dissatisfaction appeared on his face as he closed the file and tossed it on the floor.
A thin-framed man with his black hair neatly combed behind trembled slightly as the man cast him an indifferent glance. His eyes seemed to bore into one's soul yet one couldn't dare to look into them. The old man narrowed his eyes at the shivering man who deliberately averted his eyes.
"Young man, I've seen storms and tornadoes so don't dare do something lousy like this," he enunciated with his heavy dangerous tone.
"However," he continued. "You can just go and collect your salary from the financial department. I won't say the word, you know, don't you?" he asked not shifting from his position.
The thin man shook tremendously as he composed himself to begin pleading. Nonetheless, he was interrupted before he could do so, "Since you wanted me to say the word, I'll say it, you're fired. That's final!"
The old man then pressed a button near his pen case and within seconds, two gigantic robotic figures dressed in security uniforms appeared. They swiftly dragged the man out of the office without command. The man could only blame himself for his incompetence.
"Hmm, Yeah and that's how it was," sighed the old man as he settled into a big swerve chair. A large golden office tag with 'Dafour Maltimore' carved on it was placed on the top of a huge desk. It was meticulously arranged in a way that everything rested at a certain angle, in its place.
Having attained a certain degree of being a soldier, he grew to be sharp and meticulous. No speck of lie or truth goes unseen in his eyes. Old Dafour had given a task to his subordinates and each was to design a suitable script and design of characters which he could release as his last before retiring. However, the retiring bit was kept to himself. The thin man had brought his proposal but was immediately rejected.
The old man was the epitome of perfection so everything in his eyes had to appear perfect. His company had the best team of artists but the only script writer had suddenly disappeared making the company face some kind of tragedy. However, he had already given out a theme on which the comic was to be based. His desire lay in the characters, unique was his fort.
Meanwhile, downstairs where other departments have located the occupants were in chaos. The entire building felt like hell as they all knew that their boss was very mad. A week had passed since the announcement of the proposal.
They silently prayed for an angel to appear and save them. Finally, around 6 pm, a mysterious man appeared at the reception. He wore a strange magician's attire and a pair of black gloves covered his seemingly slender fingers.
His expressions were covered by a thin black mask that spared a pair of silver-grey eyes. He stood at the reception desk and politely greeted, "Hello, lady!"
The confused and lost reception female swiftly adjusted herself and turned her attention to the man. She forced out a fake professional smile, "Yes, hello, how may I help you?"
Placing a khaki folder on the counter, he said, "Please forward this to chairman Maltimore. It's the script proposal. In case he's interested, my contacts are inside. Thanks."
The man flashed a smile at the female and then exited the building, leaving the female staring at the folder before her. She sighed helplessly, hoping that the script would work out. It was so far the nth time someone brought a proposal and rejected it.
