I was in my office. Again. I just noticed that I have to get out more before I get buried six feet under. But then again, as soon as that pill is perfected, I can do whatever the hell I want! But, that's still fifty-fifty, so...
Anyway, I've been holding this position for the past three hours. My chin was resting on my thumb and index finger. It was supposed to accentuate my sharper features, like my eyes and nose. But, this was just plain torture. I shifted the position of my eyes to see the woman who was painting me. I said, "Hey, you think this is about done?"
She looked back at me with her hazel-colored eyes, and said, "Almost...I just need to get your eyes right. They really are magnificent."
I replied in an almost annoyed manner, "Yes, thanks for the compliment. But, you think you can, I don't know... expedite the process?" I then continued, "If it needs to be done, we can simply photoshop the rest on the computer before we make it larger."
She looked at me with a hint of disdain, and simply said, "Art cannot be rushed."
I rolled my eyes. For fuck's sake.
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Vincent POV:
I found myself retracing the steps that I had taken with my grandfather thirteen years ago. I see the same attractions: broken-down cars with their windows busted open, the once-proud skyscrapers crumbling every minute, and the -now- larger cardboard towns that extended to the streets. A lot had changed in a decade. And a lot had stayed the same, like the families that waved me by with smiles on their faces. It was, without a doubt, nostalgic.
Soon, I saw a huge building that stuck out like a sore thumb. Its walls were covered in filth, but the structural integrity was still there. It was the visitation zone. I slowly walked up the dozens of steps that led to the automatic sliding doors. They must have upgraded from the last time I've been here.
I stepped inside expecting new furniture and maybe a lessened termite infestation, but what I got was something a hundred times worse. The termites did some really good work over the past decade. The left wall was almost gone, and I could see the little pests crawling around in the back wall, which was made of cement, in the millions. The right wall was also beginning to show its fair share of disintegration although more moss-covered it like a blanket more than anything. The floor was still covered with dust, but the middle of the floor had many footprints. Just shows how many people were willing to attend the event. The ceiling was now caked in rot. It was worse than before. By a lot. The only thing that I could actually be thankful for was the smell. And it probably wasn't because of the employees.
I walked quickly past all of that garbage and stopped near an employee. To my astonishment, she was the same one that my grandpa and eye saw thirteen years ago. Her face aged a little bit, but she looked to still be in her prime. I think she was just as surprised to see me. I asked her my question, "Miss, would it possible for you to tell me where the transport for the inner sector is?"
She peered into my eyes and said, "Those eyes, are you the same kid?"
I replied, "Yeah."
She looked at me as if I had just risen from the dead. "Right. The train's going to be on the right down the next hallway." I nodded my head in thanks and began to walk towards my destination. She called out for me, "Wait!" I looked at her from a couple of feet away. She continued, "I know it's overdue, but I'm sorry for what happened to your grandfather."
I tilted my head in interest. I said, "Sorry for what?"
She was confused, "I...I know how it feels like to have someone close to me pass away. My own grandfather passed when I was around your age all those years ago."
"Don't compare yourself to me," I snapped, "You don't know how it feels like to lose the only person in your life that cared about you. You don't know what it feels like to live in a hell hole where three fucking meals a day is a commodity. You don't know how it feels like to watch people around you suffer without food or even water for days on end. You...don't...know...anything." I slowed down at the end. Her gaze was full of fear which gradually turned to pity. I regained my composure and said, "Have a good day now."
With that, I hurriedly walked out of the hallway, leaving her to watch my distant back.
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Micheal Grey POV:
After four hours of torture, the woman that painted me was finally fired. She was well-compensated, of course. But, the way she was dismissed would leave a scar on her stupidly, a perfect record. 'Art cannot be rushed' she said. That stuck-up little bitch. I should've taken that painting and shoved it up her ass.
Actually, I don't have the balls to do that. I would probably be chucked into a prison cell for a good decade.
Anyway, the painting was taken to the IT department because they've got huge-ass printers. The reason I wanted a painting and not a photo was because it was supposed to look more...majestic. I wanted everyone to see who the hell they were talking to before they dissed me off.
*Ring* *Ring* *Ring*
I accepted the call from my phone; it was Angela. "Hello, Angela. What can I do for you?"
She replied, "I should be asking you that, Mr. Grey. The ninety-nine by ninety-nine-foot portrait is currently being set in the first floor's wall that is opposite from the entrance."
"Perfect."
"Also, I have scheduled an interview conducted by HG7 News channel. It's supposed to be the best since millions of people tune into it every day."
Oh? I wasn't expecting her to be so quick about it. "Well, thank you for that as well, Angela. Also, please make sure you take care of the arrangements in regards t another event."
"I'm almost done with them, sir. The price is the only thing that needs to be discussed."
I shook my head in disappointment and said "Angela, sweetheart, I've got trillions of credits stuck up my ass, and it's your job to take them out and put them to good use."
She stayed quiet for a minute. I think she seeing the image in her head. I chuckled. She finally managed to say, "Yes, sir. I will take care of it." I cut the call and turned my giant Holovision. It was at the perfect time as I saw the enlarged portrait unfurl in the grand hall. It looked majestic. For sure. My face was perfectly painted with all the sharp and soft curves in the right areas. The colors were warm but cold in certain areas, which gave off a benevolent and stern look to me. My eyes were really amazing. Every time someone walked in, they would see those eyes staring right into their souls. It was perfect.
I called Angela again. "Yeah, hey Angela! Long-time-no-see, listen. Remember the artist that we hired?"
"The one that you fired?"
"Yes," I sighed before continuing, "I want you to take the 'fired' part off her record and give her a ten mil bonus."
"Are you sure?"
"You'll understand it when you see the product for yourself. And yes, I am sure." With that, I tossed the phone on my bed. The phone bounced off the bed and fell on the marble floor. The tiny frame shattered. God fucking damn it.
I tried my best to ignore it, and I looked at myself in the mirror. My sharp nose and eyes had returned to their former glory. My hair had regained all of its light-brown, reddish colors, and my strong jawline was visible. I talked out loud, "Do I really look better on that piece of paper?"