"You are fired."
Nolan's eyes widened as those words echoed in his ears, his throat tightened as he looked at the men and women in suits seated at the large coffee-brown table.
"We are sorry, Nolan, but sadly we don't require your skills at this company anymore," the man at the top of the table spoke. He adjusted his glasses and moved his long grey hair aside, looking at the files that rested in the table in front of him.
"You... you can't be serious," Nolan stuttered. His body began to heat up despite the ACs on full blast inside the room. His hands moved subconsciously; he tugged on his neatly folded white collar and loosened his tie a bit.
"We are sorry, Nolan, our company is moving in a new direction now. RPG games have evolved in the last ten years, and your skills no longer match up to the current market," the man said. Though he apologized, Nolan could clearly see that there were no emotions behind those eyes. To them, he was another disposable piece, and it was all business.
Ten years. Ten years he had poured into this company, slaving away. He started as just a normal developer, but after years of suffering and building himself up, he managed to become the head of dungeon development for all games within the company.
He had built his skills every day of his life, making sure that all the dungeons made in their games stood out, unique and very good.
Yet after all that—after slaving away his youth, working a cruel nine-to-five and an excessive amount of overtime—they are firing him.
He had only been eighteen when he started this job, a game prodigy fresh out of the university, and now he was a twenty-eight-year-old man with his dungeons as the only things he had.
"I've given my all to this company—my youth, my time, my life. I have trained several generations of developers that made this company even greater," Nolan said. He clenched his fists as he spoke, his breathing rising.
"We understand that, Nolan, and we are deeply appreciative of the sacrifice that you have made for our company, but our paths no longer align," the man spoke, his voice distant, despite the fact he was trying to sound sympathetic.
"BULLSHIT!" Nolan shouted, shocking the whole board. They stared at him with wide eyes. Nolan had never been one to lash out—he always did what was said obediently.
Nolan realized that he had snapped. He composed himself, took a deep breath, and looked at the man with his red eyes. "Tell me the truth. Is what you have said the real reason you are firing me?" Nolan asked.
The man frowned when he heard what Nolan said. He looked down at his papers and began arranging them. "We, the board, have made our decision. You are to leave the company premises today. Take nothing that belongs to us with you.
That includes, and is not limited to, all dungeon templates, files, and codes. And as per your contract, you can't share the details of any of our products even after you leave. If you do, we will sue you for everything that you have," the man said. He looked up at Nolan again.
"You should be happy. After all, the person replacing you is someone that you once worked with for years—someone you trained: Peter.
He brings a fresh, new-age feeling to the dungeons. He is the best to take over."
When Nolan heard the name Peter, his face changed into one of anger, because it finally made sense. Everything that had happened now made sense.
Peter was no ordinary worker. He was the son of one of the board members seated here. Peter had always been going on about how he would change some things into better versions if he was in charge, constantly trying to change Nolan's designs and more.
"So he finally took it away from me. I guess the new age beats the old algorithm," Nolan said. He knew the truth, but what good was that anymore?
He turned around without saying another word, walking toward the door, his heavy footsteps absorbed by the carpet beneath him.
The board watched him walk out, their faces expressionless. They didn't care about him in the slightest. All they cared about was their profit.
Nolan opened the double door and walked down the hallway, not turning left or turning right. He was tired of it all. He just wanted to go home, lay down, and stay there.
He wanted to remove himself from everything around him. He just wanted to be alone.
He made his way to the elevator. He got into it and pressed the button for the ground floor, not even bothering with getting any of his stuff from his office. There was nothing important there to him either way.
The elevator reached the ground floor, and he walked out while some people walked in as well. He made his way toward the door, but "coincidentally," Peter stood there.
When Peter saw him, he rushed over to him. "Boss, I just got promoted to head of the dungeon department! That means you got promoted higher, right?" Peter asked.
He was a young man, no more than twenty-five, dark brown hair, and eyes with baby-soft skin. He had a smile that would trick anyone into thinking he was a good person, but Nolan saw through that lie.
"You got my job. Congratulations. Keep the office warm for me," Nolan said. He patted Peter on the shoulder and walked out, not even looking back at Peter. He didn't want to know what expression he had on his face.
He fit through the revolving doors and pushed into it. He glanced at the glass as he passed through, taking a look at his sinking blue eyes and his slightly unkempt brown hair.
As he stepped out of the doors, he grabbed his tie with one hand and pulled it off, tossing it into a trash bin at the side and walking off, leaving the massive building that had been his all for the past ten years.
His apartment was not too far from the place, so he walked by the street. As cars passed, their engines roaring and people making all sorts of noise. But with all that going on, Nolan couldn't hear a thing.
He suddenly got a notification from his phone, stopped, and pulled it out of his pocket. A message from an unknown number showed. When he opened it, a light shot into his forehead. He jerked back in shock and let the phone fall and hit the ground.
But that was the least of his worries, as right now, he was staring at a holographic blue screen.
[Congratulations. You have been chosen to become the developer.]