The North Sea churned, its waves crashing against the towering oil platform. Torbjorn Lindbaek, the union boss, stood at the edge, his knuckles white as he gripped the railing. Hroar Torgersen, the corrupt company boss, approached, his polished shoes tapping on the metal grating.
"You're pushing too hard, Lindbaek," Hroar sneered. "This drilling contract—it's going to the Americans. My father-in-law's company."
Torbjorn's jaw clenched. "And what about our workers? Their livelihoods?"
Hroar's eyes narrowed. "They're expendable. Profit margins matter more."
The wind howled, carrying their words into the salt-laden air. Torbjorn had fought for these men and women—the welders, the riggers, the roughnecks. They were his family, bound by sweat and shared danger.
"You're a traitor," Torbjorn spat. "Selling out our people."
Hroar laughed, the sound echoing across the platform. "You're naive, Lindbaek. This is business."
Torbjorn lunged, his fists connecting with Hroar's jaw. The impact reverberated through his bones. "Business? These are lives!"
Hroar staggered, wiping blood from his split lip. "You think you're a hero? A savior?"
"No," Torbjorn growled. "But I won't let you destroy everything we've built."
They circled each other, the sea spray clinging to their suits. Torbjorn's mind raced—memories of late-night negotiations, of rallying the workers, of fighting for fair wages. Hroar was a snake, slithering through loopholes, lining his pockets.
"You're a fool," Hroar hissed. "Sentimentality won't save you."
Torbjorn lunged again, but this time Hroar sidestepped, sending him crashing into a stack of pipes. Pain flared in Torbjorn's ribs, but he staggered to his feet.
"You're wrong," Torbjorn panted. "Our strength lies in unity."
Hroar's eyes glinted. "Unity? You'll see how quickly it crumbles."
And then, as if the sea itself had heard their battle cries, a storm descended. Rain lashed their faces, lightning splitting the sky. Torbjorn's anger fueled him—he was fighting for more than contracts; he was fighting for justice.
"You're fired," Hroar spat. "I'll replace you."
Torbjorn laughed, the sound wild. "Go ahead. But remember this—you can't silence the tides."
They grappled, slipping on the wet deck. Torbjorn's fingers found a wrench, and he swung it, connecting with Hroar's shoulder. The corrupt boss stumbled, crashing into the railing.
"You're finished," Torbjorn whispered.
Hroar's eyes widened as he teetered on the edge. "You'll regret this."
And then he was gone—swallowed by the tempest, swallowed by the sea.
Torbjorn stood there, rain streaming down his face. The workers would cheer, the union would rally. But as he looked out at the roiling waves, he knew that sometimes, battles were fought not just for contracts, but for the very soul of humanity.
And Torbjorn vowed to keep fighting—for the tides, for justice, for the North Sea that had witnessed it all.
