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chubby-varkid-hell · 5 years

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just gonna jump in here and throw a request at you since i'm a weird gremlin like that but.... could you write something with a post-tftbl Rhys based on the one Moriarty quote "honey you should see me in a crown"?

How’s this work for ya, anon? I wrote it in like two hours.

Title: Hail To The King

Words: 2360

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Some Minor Swearing, Not Edited/Beta’d

In a world of locked doors…

Rhys ran an exhausted hand through his thoroughly disheveled hair, half in an attempt to tame it and half in an attempt to remind himself that he still inhabited a living body and wasn’t just floating on some bullshit alternate plane of existence. He’d been at his desk in an office of the abandoned Atlas building he’d holed up in since…

Since…

He’d been here for a long time, was all he was saying.

His eyes burned from poring over all the paperwork needed to get Atlas back on its feet. His head was pounding in a combination of strain from processing the information and pure exhaustion. His back and neck were stiff and painful―every minute movement was agonizing. He desperately wanted to sleep, but…

But he couldn’t.

He didn’t have time for sleep.

He reached out with his new cybernetic arm for the cup on his desk. It was the only part of him that didn’t twinge and jerk with every movement from stiffness, but unfortunately… Unfortunately he tended to get distracted by the simple silver metal that made it up. Even in the dim light of this old, musky office, it gleamed. He was proud of that. He was proud of the arm in general.

He’d built this arm from scratch, more or less, and it hadn’t been easy in the slightest. It had been his first order of business after getting the building up and running proper. After that he’d made his new ECHO eye.

So many tiny, delicate pieces in that one… So many mistakes to make.

He shook his head and grabbed the cup, lifting it to his lips. Hesitating just a moment longer, he was soon taking a hearty swig of its contents.

Ugh.

Cold.

That didn’t prevent him from taking another drink, of course. It merely led to a disgruntled internal monologue about the quality of the coffee he was still drinking.

No matter what anyone said about him, he knew no one could deny his determination… Or his rising levels of spite. And that spite and determination were what led him to finish the disgusting mug before setting it aside once more. He knew he should have just drank it while it was hotter than the very spite burning through his veins that had led him to drink it in the first place.

The coffee was colder than Handsome Jack’s dead heart, more bitter than Fiona, and about as energizing as being told he was being promoted to Vice Janitor, but all of that in combination somehow gave him the energy to look over the last of the files he desperately needed to look over.

There were still several that he needed to look over eventually, but for now he’d done all he needed to do. He could sleep at last.

He smiled to himself as he stood, stretching out, and stumbled over to the modest nest he’d built for himself behind some ancient-looking filing cabinets, out of view of anyone who might come into the office. Though the likelihood of anyone, even Bandits, coming to the old Atlas building wasn’t exactly high, it never hurt to be prepared. He needed to watch his back down here.

The man with the key is king…

Dragging his hand across the display before him, Rhys rearranged the items into a more manageable configuration―priority tasks at the top, partially covering the less important ones. He nodded, satisfied, and set about examining the first thing on his roster.

Recruitment.

Again.

He almost hated himself for setting such a task as the most important for possibly the ninth time this week, but it was a necessary evil. To get Atlas back on its feet he needed workers. To get workers he needed to recruit. To make himself go out and recruit, he needed to set it as his primary task.

So far, he had two staff members, and neither of them were particularly useful to actually producing anything for the company… Which wasn’t to say they weren’t useful at all, of course. They certainly had their uses.

But he needed engineers. He needed mechanics. He needed desk jockeys. He needed many more workers that he couldn’t really put names to the jobs of when he was running on so little sleep. It’d been at least two days, now, since he’d gotten up from his meager nest behind the cabinets and set to work on several other tasks that needed done. He’d mostly been attempting to recruit during the day, since most of the people likely to be in need of a job he could provide them with would be awake that that time.

He peeked over his shoulder at the one window in the room. Even through the blinds he could see the sun beginning to climb into the sky at last. It had been dark the past couple of days―rainier than he’d ever seen it. Stormy. The place had nearly lost power several times.

But the sun was out now.

It was time to recruit.

He sighed and smoothed his hair back. He needed desperately to wash it and slick it back proper, but running water was precious and better used keeping him alive right now. He’d wash it tomorrow… Along with the rest of his body.

He checked the second priority item once more, just to remind himself what it was.

It was simple enough. Sell a few items to make a little money to put toward repairs and making new items. And paying his workers. He just had to hope he met someone who wanted Atlas wares.

He paced over to his desk, straightening his back and wetting his lips with his tongue. Presentation was important, especially at this stage in the reemergence of Atlas. He needed to look his best.

He converted his main holoscreen on the desk into a mirror app and checked his appearance.

Fine. He was presentable, at the very least. His hair could use some work, and he needed to smooth out some wrinkles in his suit, but for the most part… For the most part he wasn’t looking too bad. He could stand to go another day before he for sure had to change things up and take that shower.

He’d just have to be careful. He never knew when the water was going to decide it didn’t want to work.

He smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit, smoothed his hair back again, and grabbed the duffel bag full of handmade tech he intended to pedal while he was attempting to get some employees. It was heavy, as was to be expected, but that was fine. He could live with that.

The bag itself? Certainly not handmade, but he’d managed to take some time out of his schedule to carefully place an “ATLAS TECH.” decal on it, and seeing that decal? It reminded him of what he was doing with this company.

Yes, Atlas would still make weapons―that was a given. But Atlas Armaments was long gone. Atlas Technology though? Atlas Technology was just getting started. And Atlas Tech was going to be the biggest company on this shithole of a planet, no matter what Rhys had to do to make that happen.

The ends justified the means, as far as he was concerned.

And honey…

Atlas had a grand total of twenty-seven employees, not counting their beloved CEO, and Rhys absolutely preened at the knowledge every time he thought about it.

Yes, there was still a ways to go before Atlas rose from the ashes like an extremely technologically advanced phoenix, but there were twenty-fucking-seven people willing to help him in this endeavor. And, according to his first two hires? There were more waiting to be interviewed.

It made him positively giddy, if he was honest.

His new dream was finally beginning to come to fruition. His hard work was finally going to get him somewhere.

He laughed to himself a bit and threw a glance at his nest in the corner.

The employees had picked out their own places in the facility to stay until Rhys could provide them with housing, but thankfully they all understood that Atlas wasn’t anything amazing just yet. Rhys could pay them, if everything went well, but he couldn’t provide a place for them to stay outside the facility yet. It seemed to ease their minds a bit that he was also roughing it in the facility with them.

Soon enough, they’d have the money to have proper company housing. As long as things kept going well. As long as he was able to keep selling Atlas tech to people who needed it at reasonable prices.

And, see, that was the thing he was almost certain had made him the money he’d earned so far―he was selling this amazing tech at a reasonable price. He wasn’t overselling it or underselling it. He was offering it at more or less the price of the materials and a little labor. People loved good tech at reasonable prices. They ate it up.

As long as he kept doing that, he knew he could make some good money… At least until Atlas was back on its feet. Then he could raise the prices of the goods a little. Feed the people some crap about using better materials for even better tech… Even though he knew very well he’d be using some of the money for exactly the purpose of buying decent materials. For the most part Atlas still had some awesome materials lying around here, though, and he didn’t really need to buy any until the completely tore through what had been left in the storage rooms.

He laughed to himself again and sagged into his chair a bit.

First order of business once the company was well and truly thriving?

Better furniture for the offices in this dump. The desk in here was nice and sturdy, sure, but the chair? He’d sat on sand more comfortable, thanks. And the desks and chairs in the other offices? Miserable. His employees deserved better.

Thinking about having employees made him laugh again, lips stretching into a rather contented smile.

Things were running pretty smoothly right now.

He could probably…

He could probably go lay down, couldn’t he? He could head to bed for the night and get back to what he was working on in the morning. He sat forward again to check, and his smile only grew into a grin when he realized that, yes, he could do this in the morning without any negative consequences.

Hell yeah, he was going to put this off until morning. He deserved a good night’s sleep after all the all-nighters he’d been pulling these past few months.

He flopped into his nest after shutting off the lights in the office and passed right out regardless of his intimate knowledge of how sore he’d be in the morning from spending another night on the floor.

… You should see me in a crown.

Rhys stepped out onto the catwalk above the main floor, beaming to himself with pride as he gazed at the now fully-operating production line. He had enough employees to staff the whole building, with his first two employees having been promoted to the heads of the Security department. They had an entire team of people just as good as they were behind them. And the rest of the facility? Well, it was working wonderfully under several nearly over-qualified Department Heads who actually listened to Rhys when he told them that their department needed to do something.

The main thing being produced at the moment were weapons, shields, and cybernetic enhancements. They’d already sold several dozen cybernetic limbs to people in need of them, and Rhys had gotten a new employee from it―a cybernetics specialist who could help people attach their new limbs.

Everything was going perfectly.

He turned and paced down the catwalk, wandering through the facility, just making his rounds, letting himself be seen overseeing production. It was good for company morale for him to be involved in their day-to-day operations. It helped employees to see that, yes, he was a busy man, but he wasn’t so busy that he couldn’t have a look ‘round here and there.

By making his rounds when he could, he made himself open and accessible to his employees. Made himself seem more like a person and less like an intimidating voice over the intercom that had no body and all the power necessary to fire someone.

Things were going pretty much perfectly, if he did say so himself, though.

He made it through the rest of the day, and found himself beaming yet again when he remembered he didn’t have to retire to his office to sleep (although that had gotten more comfortable ever since the company started making some reliable money and he’d put a couch in his office). He’d managed to get some company housing set up near enough to the facility that he and his employees could walk to and from work.

His home was the nearest to the facility, of course, but he got to work the earliest and stayed the latest, so it was only fair. His schedule had him getting to his office before the facility actually started production in the morning and getting home an hour or so after everyone else had already left. That was okay though. That was how it was supposed to be.

He headed home, yawning, and calmly collapsed onto his bed.

It wasn’t anything lavish―not yet. It was just a bed, and it’d do just fine until Atlas could assert itself a little better. Until he was selling several hundred items a day instead of several dozen items a week. It was better than the nest on the floor, if nothing else, though. It worked for his needs. It was soft enough not to make him ache.

He stared up at the ceiling with a grin on his face.

Yeah.

Things were going perfectly, and, honestly? Jack had been right about one thing.

Damn it was good to be the king.

#|| Hold onto your butts! || Rhys #borderlands #rhys the company man #chubby-varkid-hell #My Writing #var.txt #post-canon #funnily enough this actually fits in with a project i have planned #i think i'll use it as the first part #of that project

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