It was fall in a little city called North Itaska , and the leaves were blanketing the already chilled ground . A candy-red sports car came humming down the road attracting more than just the casual glance. This little car had a purpose. The driver, Sage, was ignorant of this fact, as well as many other happenings around him. Sage had been sent out on a task that may just have been the most important moments in his sad little life. No, this car was not Sages, in fact he didn't even want a car like this, a gray,four-door, sedan would suit him just fine.
To his knowledge he was driving across town to impress a client, someone who was very important to the company, someone unlike Sage. His boss had brought it up last minute as a favor to him. He said this was a chance for sage to prove his commitment to the company.
In just 6 minutes something life altering would happen to Sage, and sadly even during the most purposeful moment of his life, his name would not even be remembered. He switched stations on the radio and he changed lanes and exited the highway.
Sage was punctual. If he was anything, he was punctual. he figured that was why he was picked. In his company he was a mid level manager of a steel manufacturer, that sold to many different clients. But that had nothing to do with why he was picked, it must be because he was punctual.
5 minutes.
He checked his gps, "I'm late" he thought. To Sage, late meant 10 minutes early.
Today was different. He was terrified of the car that he was driving, and more nervous of the thought of having to entertain a new client. Middle management was where he was happy.
4 minutes.
He was way later than normal. He had heard “never to speed in a red sports car”, and he took that to heart. He settled on driving at least five mph below the speed limit the whole way there, and so in his mind he was late. He rolled up to a mansion exactly 2 minutes early.
Nervous, he wiped his brow, the sweat had beaded up he was losing composure. His boss would be furious. A man in dark uniform walked up to his car. Behind him, in all his eminence, was Jacobi Buban. The warlord who had been responsible for the infamous Nomadian Slaughter just weeks before. Sage stopped his positive reinforcement chants in abruptness.
3 minutes.
The man walked up to the driver side door and tapped the glass with a full sized automatic AK47. He rolled down the window, "Are you Sage Weshire" The guard shot out with a vicious grin, amused by the aura of fear that Sage was so graciously giving out.
“I am.”
Sage at first didn't understand him through their thick accents, so he got out of the car out of instinct and raised his hands in the air. He didn't know what else to do, and so the guard laughed and prodded him with the barrel of gun, just to see the look on his face. They laughed at him and pressed his arms down.
2 minutes.
This had to be illegal. Why did he have a gun? His terror had turned into a pathetic rage. He was about to vent out steam, but as always he could never stand up for himself. “What was he going to do?” he thought “Yell at them?” After all he was just representing his company. Be as cordial as possible, he finally concluded.
The warlord and the guard got in the car and started the engine.. They didn't get more than 50 feet when the loudest noise Sage had ever heard shocked him with excitement and fear. He turned around to see the car upside down, and in flames.
With Jacobi dead, elections would be held for the first time in his country. All thanks to Sage, or as they do not remember him, Sage Weshire. Years later, well after Sage had left Steel Enterprises, he would look upon the newspaper clippings of his event, he goes on as an unsung hero, hope for any mid-level steel manager.
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