Hard to Hate You // Michael Langdon

Part I - The Bombs

"You bitch, I will end you if you walk out that fucking door," my boss, David, yells as he sits up from his desk.

I cross my arms and smirk at him, satisfied.  "No, I will end you," I state calmly.  "As soon as I tell the media about your poor attempt to take advantage of me, this company will go down in flames, and your reputation will be ruined." This bitch was caught harassing me all night at our company event and slipping a drug into my drink on surveillance footage. Luckily for me, I notice everything, so I caught him in the act. 

"Nobody will believe you," he snarls, attempting to intimidate me.

"Bitch please, I'm not stupid.  I already went to the police and filed a report, and my lawyers are currently filing the lawsuit.  By the end of the day, you'll be out of a job."

"I am the CEO of this fucking company.  I have more money than all the Kardashians combined.  My lawyers will easily turn this case over."

I roll my eyes, then stalk over to his desk and lean down over him.  With my heels on, I am a few inches taller than him.  "You fucked with the wrong bitch, and now you're about to pay the price," I spit.

"I will-"

I backhand him before he can finish his statement.  The metal in my heavy rings collides with his cheekbones.  He holds his hand to his face and stares at me in shock.

"I'm not interested in whatever bullshit threat you have.  I'll see you in court, asshole."  I stride out of his office, holding my middle finger behind my back.  My lawyer recommended that I don't talk to him, but that felt good as hell.

I enter the elevator and wait for it to close before pulling out my phone. As I open it, an alarm begins blaring. "What the hell?" I mutter.  I quickly read through the phone alert.  Ballistic missile threat inbound to Los Angeles.  Seek immediate shelter.  This is not a drill.  There's no way that this is real. 

I step out of the elevator and realize that this is very real.  Everyone in the lobby is in mass pandemonium.  "Well shit," I mutter. 

A man and a woman dressed in all black approach me out of nowhere.  "Valentina Callistra?" the woman asks.

"Who the hell is asking?" I reply.

"We need you to come with us," the man says as they both step towards me.

"Who are you and where do you plan on taking me?" I ask, refusing to budge.

"We work for the Cooperative and we're taking you somewhere where you can survive the nuclear blast.  No more questions until we get into the transport vehicle," the woman replies shortly. She takes my arm, and I realize they're planning on taking me whether I want to or not.

I nod, not needing much convincing since my only other option is to get blown up by nuclear bombs. I follow them to a black SUV parked in front of the office building.  We're in the middle of downtown LA, so I have no clue how they're planning to get me somewhere where I can survive the nuclear blast.

After we're settled in and on our way, I try asking a few of my questions.  "Why me out of all people?" I ask as we sit.

"You have an exceptional genetic makeup," the man answers.

"You mean for repopulating purposes?" I scoff.

"For whatever reason the Cooperative sees fit," the woman responds curtly.

I roll my eyes, knowing that I'm not going to get much out of them.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, we roll to a stop.  "Get out and follow us," the woman commands.  I hurriedly climb out of the car and see that we're on a small airport's tarmac.  She swiftly walks up to a private jet that has a blonde woman standing out front.