Hesperia Enterprises: A tale of fleeting victory told in recombinant media.

[DireStrike]

(A forenote: since I cannot draw, I have decided to illustrate my tale using various bits of media from the web. All images and videos are copyright their various talented owners.)

Allow me to introduce one Dean Mockrat.

He is kind, with a strong sense of justice, though people say he's a bit scatterbrained.

Dean works at Hesperia Enterprises. Despite its prestigious standing among competitors, the company has been struggling lately. Everyone is putting in longer hours, yet it seems less and less helpful. Oh, Hesperia is still very profitable, it's just that things seem to be... slowing down. In fact, if you asked around, you would find that all of Hesperia's competitors are in the same jam. But that is a tale for another time, told by men much greater than me.

Anyway, all of this tension leads to increased conflict around the office. Dean remembers the days when he used to clock in, engage in friendly and productive give-and-take with other departments, and when the sun began to dip low, he felt as if he'd accomplished something. Dean knows about the relentless mind-trap of nostalgia. But he is an analytical person, and he thinks rather than feels that things have changed. People used to work together! In Dean's opinion, at least.


Ah, here comes a day now that is typical of Dean's new routine. A fracas draws Dean away from his Facebook page (what? Everyone does it. There isn't any REAL work to do anyway. http://www.strikemag.org/bullshit-jobs/) But here, at the office fridge, a crowd is gathering. Yells are being emitted. Dean doesn't like this one bit. He goes over to investigate, and things calm down as everyone looks to Dean. "Somehow", he thinks to himself, "I always wind up in this position..."

"P-please... stop fighting. You know I hate fighting. We are all friends here." Dean tries a smile to illustrate his point.

"She's trying to steal my yogurt!" John offered, drawing an incredulous gasp from Rosa.

"You mean MY yogurt. You do this every day, John."

It was true. John did do this every day, and everyone knew it. This in spite of the fact that John would never admit to eating anything besides rare steak. And bacon. Manly food.

John tried again. "This fucking bitch is lying! She's trying --"

But Dean had had quite enough.

"Don't you ever, EVER--"
"Ok, maybe she's not lying. but--"
"NO! Don't you EVER use THAT WORD!"
"....you mean "fucking"? ...I'm sorry, I guess, but..."
"NO! The OTHER word. You know what I mean."

The crowd looked around in confusion, then slowly began to get it. Dean could be a bit strange sometimes. But with the pressure released in a sigh, Dean regained his composure.

"Why don't you share the yogurt? That way everyone is happy. Please. For the good of the company."

Rosa was, of course, incensed. But she knew that people looked up to Dean as the "reasonable" guy, and she wasn't very popular besides. She had a reputation for being... extreme. On top of that, John usually made fun of her hygiene, which was honestly fine. However, the timeless tactics of schoolyard bullying persist for a reason: they are effective.

Conflict averted, yogurt shared, Rosa defused. It was a good day. It was a typical day.


But one day...


The routine chime of the elevator was cut short by a burst of gunfire. Desks were smashed and kicked away to create an open space.

"Call off security!" screamed a young-looking thug, "Or SHE GETS IT!" (She being one Grace Jones, pictured here on vacation in New York: )


"Throw your wallets into the middle. One at a time, nice and easy," instructed the slick young criminal. One by one, the employees complied. Until...



"What are you smiling about? Who the hell are you?" Asked a second gunman with graying hair, his body taut with nerves. The younger gunman only smiled himself.



"THAT guy? That's Dean Mockrat. He's a total pushover, the biggest wimp in the entire place. Relax bro, I did my research."

A single fat drop of sweat slid down from the brow of the older gunman. "That's Dean Mockrat? Are you sure? He looks... different."

"Watch this!" shouted the young man, glee crawling across his face like spiders. He walked over to Dean and proffered his handgun, handle first. At his insistence, Dean took the gun.

"Now shoot me, bitch. Go ahead."



"We don't fire guns on company grounds. Someone might get hurt." Explained Dean. He handed the gun back to his assailant.

"You see!?" The gunman's expression quickly changed from rampant triumph to all business.


He pointed the gun at Dean. "Now give me your wallet, bitch."

"No."

"WHAT?!"

"No. Fuck you."

The rage that had been building for the gunman's entire life finally burst. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?! I HOLD ALL THE CARDS. THIS IS MY TIME. NOW DIE!"

And then he pulled the trigger.

Or he tried to. Stories are conflicted about exactly what happened next. Some say it looked like this:


Or like this:


Personally I think it looked like this:

But whatever happened, the hostage-takers fled in a rout. Some were crying. Some fought with each other. At least one shouted on his way out the door, "This isn't over, Dean Mockrat! We'll be back!"

There were some murmurs from the employees - "Don't those guys work here? Shouldn't they be fired? ...or arrested?"

Dean's reply: "If you have any complaints, talk to H.R. It'll be sorted out in due time."

Sure, some desks were broken and a few bullets had to be pried out of the walls. Some employees are still looking for their wallets. But it was quite heroic, overall. And young Grace's life was saved. Surely a day worth celebrating.


The next day...


Yoink!


"Yo Dean, I'm borrowing your car!"

"O-ok... but Ted, remember last time? Please be more caref--"

"Hey Mike! Michelle! It's time... to cruise!"


And with that, they left. Probably going to Red Lobster or Olive Garden.

Dean tabbed over to facebook. He tapped out a scathing lament about the behavior of some of his fellow employees. He took a deep breath... and deleted it.

Another day, another conflict averted.