Catch the Thunder

A New Storm Rolls In

Freed stared at the computer screen, typing a cover letter for one of their company's clients. It had to be worded just right. Although the letter would probably be skimmed over in a few seconds, Freed spent many minutes making sure it was concise but contained all necessary information.

He flipped over to another screen that showed a spreadsheet of the last quarter's earnings, making sure the numbers were correct. This was definitely not the time to switch around numbers.

Satisfied, he clicked send...

And his screen went blank. The other screen with the spreadsheet flashed and went black as well.

"Dammit!" he screamed, not meaning to cuss, but it shocked him. It seemed Laxus' bad habit of using foul language was rubbing off on him. Still, all that work! Lost!

Another junior manager named Wakaba walked over. "Something wrong?"

"I just lost the cover letter I was working on. It's due in half an hour!"

Wakaba looked at the two screens. "Call up Warren in tech support. If you can't get it back up in ten minutes, come over to my desk and log in there. The email system should have saved a backup, although you might have to rewrite anything you did in the last five minutes."

"Thank you. Sorry for the outburst."

Wakaba laughed and patted his shoulder. "It's happened to all of us, Freed."

He smiled, glad the team was calling him Freed again and not Justine anymore.

Just then, a woman with bobbed hair and thick glasses came forward. "Mister Justine?"

Freed bristled. Laki was his father's secretary. If she was here, his father wanted something. There was no way his father could have known about him cussing just a moment ago, so hopefully he was not in trouble.

"The CEO wishes to see you in his office." She stood there, waiting, knowing he had no choice but to come immediately.

Wakaba patted Freed's shoulder again. "Go check on that. I'll call tech support and see if they can fix your computer."

"Thank you," Freed nodded.

He left his desk to follow Laki up the elevator to the top floor, where his father oversaw this massive corporation in his posh office. As he stepped in, he saw his father was not alone. The head manager, Macao Conbolt, was with him as well.

"Sir, the young Mister Justine is here," Laki announced with an elite primness to her voice.

"Thank you; that is all," Llewellyn said, and she slipped away, shutting the office door behind her. "Freed, please come forward."

Freed privately hated meeting his father at work. Here, he was not Father. He was Chief Executive Officer of the Justine Corporation, a group Llewellyn's father started, then he took over, and Freed was destined to one day continue the tradition, making the company grow larger and stronger. Within these walls they could not be father and son, not fully. He was an employee with potential. That was all.

Freed stepped up to the desk, and when Llewellyn waved to the smaller chairs in front of him, he took a seat. Macao also sat, and Freed saw a pinch to his brow.

"Freed," Llewellyn began with a deep, stern voice. "I'm a bit concerned about your performance."

Freed's spine immediately stiffened. "Am I not meeting performance standards?"

"You are, but only barely. You're ... distracted, and it's hurting your results."

"I was feeling a little under the weather last week," Freed admitted, recalling the sub-drop, "but I assure you, I'm better now."