THE SONG OF MY PEOPLE - I.b.

“YOU’RE FIRED.”

“WHAT!?”

Frank Jones stood before Mr. Reynolds, yet the joke seemed to be indeed- on HIM. The public display in the Heroes Initiative Agency's main office space was bad enough, but really, he should have saved the offer as a ruse to draw the quarry out in the open, much like a hunter stalks their prey before pulling the trigger on the target.

"Your services are no longer required at Heroes Initiative Agency."

Mr. Reynolds waved a dismissal, as he always did whenever Frank talked, much even less listened to him.

"Wha- You... wait, no-! How- How can you do this!?" The blonde man threw his fists, his back bouncing slightly from his yelling into a wall. "You... you said, the government's contracts!"

He paused, only to grasp at straws, his hands sweeping widely, "-the government, are paying your agency for every single case solved- SO!"

"SO I- I, in my own damn self-restraint, and generosity, solved them, all-

ALL OF THEM."

"That is not YOUR place!" Jones fired off an index finger, "...even if you CAN solve them, and... AND, on top of it, no- NO HARM ATTEMPT. You are clearly far overreaching the bounds of your position."

Mr. Reynolds approached the agitated man, his shorter stature immediately taking space, "There's no argument or the need for you to get emotional over such small misunderstandings. As you can see, by the simple logic, no more work means no more money. These are just business matters, so isn't it easier for us, to part ways, than for both sides to feel guilty and indebted?"

Frank Jones felt bile rise up in his throat and had to fight not to let it overtake him as his lips trembled while looking at his superior. His eyes stayed on the floor at his feet. He smiled awkwardly and his brows crooked up. With that, it was nothing but a pure look of fear and hatred, glaring right back at Mr. Reynolds, but otherwise said no more.

The silence continued and the atmosphere still saturated from his presence, that now.

"WHO?!!"

Two security guards stood by the disgraced; Mr. Reynolds stopping them in their tracks, snapping his fingers; it was his voice, after all, that did it.

"Sorry Frank... that, is WHAT THE GOLDEN PARACHUTE IS FOR."

"..."

The seasoned executive raised a finger up to his lips:

"A VOW OF SILENCE."