Rest assured the rat-infested, piss-reeking, crime-leaden streets of Helios' intern station-oid was the last place in the vast galaxy Handsome wished to find himself, much less in the middle of the night. He hated the Saturn stratosphere in general, no thanks to Pandora. Alas, the drawback of being C.E.O of a company as prodigious and multiplex as Hyperion was that inevitably visitation was required in all fields. Did Jack give a bullymong fuck about the conditions he'd been shown during his tour here today, the reason he was here? No, not really. Why would he care, when it didn't concern him personally, why would he care when he paid individuals to do such on his behalf? That's why HR existed, why audits existed - to save him the hassle of this shit. Someone hadn't done their job. Again. Clearly.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Hyperion, in truth, was not a bad company to work for. It had benefits that were difficult to beat and made them appealing: twenty-days paid holiday per annum, paid sick leave after two years of service, bonuses to management when targets had been met and earned, training and progression, visual and health insurance, and their most enticing feature of paid internship. Haemorrhaging money, as Jack liked to begrudgingly see it, cash he could better spend elsewhere and would muuuuch rather spend elsewhere. But vying to be recognised as the Best Manufacturing Company To Work For for the third year running kept that wound agape and the haemorrhage fresh. He was competitive in all pies he could stick a finger into, and this one was just another ego-boosting, dick-stroking win to pin to his legacy.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sick cows made poor milk, as the saying went. And with enough complaints, the backlash on the horizon felt like divine commination that threatened to tarnish a golden winning streak. So hence the visit that was to last two days, hence the (faux) concern he had to provide to some menial extent, hence the millions this mess was going to cost to fix.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Wouldn't be in this mess had it not been left to deteriorate.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He'd been so lost in thought that he'd barely noticed the phone box, or the tall brunet who was gawking at him from behind the cracked, graffiti-strewn glass. He only noticed when he cast his eyes around in preparation to cross the road - no cars in sight or earshot but, habit - and came eye-to-eye with him.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jack blinked, the only inkling of surprise that passed his chiselled features, and he stopped, stared. The outfit told him the guy was Hyperion, like everything on this conquered planet. The perfectly threaded eyebrows rose. "You good...?" he inquired, his tone entirely one of can I fucking help you, Starey McGee?
