Chapter Text
The way you see the world depends solely and entirely on how you were raised, the values you were taught, the attitudes that were applied to you, and how they explained to you what is right behavior: maybe this statement is true, maybe not, maybe it's just a justification we try to give ourselves to hide the real problem, ourselves; because deep down, we are always the architects of our own destiny.
It wasn't my choice to be chosen for that child prodigy program, I just had the luck of being an intelligent girl and the misfortune of losing my parents when I was young; sometimes I look back and think maybe things would have gone differently if I had known them, but it doesn't really matter now, there's no point in crying over spilled milk because this milk, while we speak, continues to mix with that thick red liquid that has already stained my soul so much that I'll never be able to get rid of it.
I was standing in front of the factory entrance, it wasn't my usual workplace, I usually took care of other areas, but we had hired an old worker, and they gave me the task of picking him up and showing him what had changed. After all, he was also one of the best from our course:
"You're already late," I saw him walking toward me, a guy taller than me, with messy dark hair, slightly wavy, and blue eyes marked by dark circles; he'd practically been born with them, even as a kid, he always had them.
"Come on, stop it, you're not funny," he said with a serious expression. I rolled my eyes and smiled.
"Old friend, how nice to see you, happy to see you back—"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, in the meantime, you didn't block my firing years ago," he interrupted me.
"Come on, you know it wasn't my choice, I would never have fired you, not after everything we went through together." He gave me a light nudge and we walked together into the factory.
He was Harley Sawyer, the most brilliant kid in the gifted children's course I attended when I was younger, of course, never as brilliant as me, but we could say this characteristic brought us closer when we were kids: we both had big plans for the future and Elliot Ludwig was struck by us both, he chose us both, personally educated us, and then put us to work in his huge toy factory, Playtime; The first time I entered it, I couldn't have imagined that this huge factory would become my nightmare and hell, but at the same time, it would be my eternal home that I would never be able to leave.
So Yes, we had been working there since we were around 17 years old: I had never left, but Harley had been sent away or fired, I never really understood why, because they feared his intelligence, his goals, his desires; in short, a mind too brilliant to manage and consequently a threat to everyone. Or at least, that's what he told me the last time I saw him, many years ago.
By now, Eliot, the founder of Playtime, the one who had raised and educated us, urgently needed new employees, the company risked going bankrupt and there was an urgent need for another brilliant mind to take charge of the company before it could fail: therefore, the higher-ups went looking to see if the industry had any employees with leadership spirit, intelligence, and, above all, determination to carry out their work without letting the company collapse.
As a result, they found Harley, who had continued his studies in the meantime, increasing his knowledge and his thirst for power: looking at it from the future, I can say with quite a lot of confidence that this situation simply increased his thirst for revenge, his cruelty, and his ruthlessness, but we'll talk about that another time.
"So, how's everything going here? What's changed? What are you working on?" He asked, looking around, still with a serious expression,
"Well, nothing special really, I take care of the guided tours and sometimes manage the activities for the orphans," I shrugged,
"Damn, we went through all those years with tests and assessments of all kinds and now the maximum work they can offer us is this?",
"Don't speak for both of us, you were literally hired to become the boss," I said, a little annoyed,
"It's always been my goal, and you've always known it." He didn't even look me in the eye when he spoke, and he constantly had an apathetic, serious tone:
"Yeah, yeah, I know, but I didn't think it would be so easy for you to achieve it.",
"What can I say? You're underestimating me."
His character had always been quite particular, he wasn't exactly the best person in the world nor empathetic, but at least I could consider him a loyal friend: sure, probably rather than comforting me in sad moments, he would have preferred to kill himself, but let's take what we can consider good into account, let's save what can be saved.