Rise Of The Ill-treated Michael Wayne

THE MEETING

Michael woke up with determination coursing through him, fueled by a desire to alter his circumstances.

He muttered to himself, "Time to make a change," contemplating the steps he needed to take.

To improve his financial situation, he set a goal. 

"I'll ask the cafeteria master for more shifts, even if it means missing a few lectures," Michael declared, ready to confront his financial challenges. .

The idea of working extra hours held promise against the constant mockery.

Preparing for the day, he couldn't ignore the sorry state of his wardrobe. A couple of worn-out t-shirts were a reminder of his financial struggles.

"Maybe with a bit more cash, I can afford a new t-shirt," he pondered, viewing it as a small step towards lifting his spirits.

In his pursuit of change, Michael's readiness to forgo lectures in favor of extra work reflected his dedication.

"I have to hustle for more," he affirmed, envisioning a future where financial constraints wouldn't dictate his life.

Even though the vision seemed a little distant, he was ready to start somewhere.

All set, Michael put on his clothes and headed straight to the cafeteria, ready to have a conversation that might alter the course of his day and possibly his future. 

Finding the master, he began, "Good morning, Sir."

"Yes, Micheal? Any problem?" 

"I was wondering if I could take on double shifts. Need some extra cash, you know?"

The cafeteria master, a stout figure with a gruff demeanor, listened as Michael poured out his financial struggles.

"I'm willing to work harder, sir. Just need to make ends meet," Michael pleaded.

The master sighed, as if burdened by a heavy decision. 

"Michael, I'm sorry, but it's not in my hands anymore," he admitted reluctantly.

Confusion painted Michael's face.

"What do you mean, Sir? You own this cafeteria."

The cafeteria master leaned in, a secretive air about him. 

"Jack McCoy," he began, "offered me a deal I couldn't refuse. A hefty sum of money to let you go. He asked me to fire you in exchange for the money. I really needed it."

Michael's eyes widened in disbelief.

"What? Why would he do that?"

A moment of hesitation lingered before the master whispered, "He said something about making your life a living hell. I have no idea what you did to piss off the son of a millionaire, but he's really going to make your life a living hell."

Frustration and anger welled up within Michael. 

"So, you're firing me because Jack paid you off?" he questioned, a mix of incredulity and resentment in his tone.

The cafeteria master nodded apologetically. "I'm sorry, Michael. It's nothing personal."

Feeling a sharp pain in his chest, Michael sighed deeply. "I understand," he replied, disappointment etched on his face.

As he turned away, the cafeteria master called after him, "I hope things get better for you, Michael."

Without a word, Michael left the cafeteria, the weight injustice heavy on his shoulders.

As Michael stormed out of the cafeteria, he muttered to himself, "If Jack McCoy thinks he can buy off the cafeteria, he won't be able to buy off the school who gave me the job as the janitor of the male toilet."

"At least, I still have another place to work."

Heading towards the toilets, he couldn't shake off the shock of Jack's influence. 

"He's not going to control everything," Michael whispered defiantly.

However, his confidence was met with an encounter. The Director of Student Affairs, an unexpected figure, stood by the corridor leading to the toilets. 

"Good morning, sir," Michael greeted, attempting to maintain a sense of normalcy.

The Director, however, ignored the greeting, his stern expression giving away the seriousness of the conversation.

Michael took a deep breath and decided to cut straight to the point.

"Sir, I've been working hard, taking my shifts at the cafeteria to make ends meet."

The Director's gaze remained still as Michael continued, "But if the cafeteria is compromised, I can still work as the janitor."

His optimism faltered as the Director raised an eyebrow, signaling Michael to continue.

"Yesterday was tough, sir. I got into a confrontation, and it ended with a slap. But, sir, I assure you, I'm ready to work even harder to make up for it."

The Director's expression remained unreadable, prompting Michael to plead, "Please, sir, I need this job. I'll take any punishment you deem fit, but don't take away my means of survival."

The Director finally broke his silence, delivering a crushing verdict.

"Michael Wayne, you are suspended from the university for two weeks for assaulting a fellow student."

Stunned, Michael stammered, "Sir, please, I didn't mean for it to happen. It was just a moment of anger."

The Director's voice remained firm.

"You need to learn that actions have consequences. For the next two weeks, stay away from the school premises. If you're seen near, another two weeks will be added to your suspension."

Desperation clawed at Michael as he spoke, "Sir, I'll do anything to make it right. I can't afford to lose this job."

But the Director's response was harsh, "You should have thought about that before resorting to violence."

Feeling the weight of his actions, Michael dejectedly muttered, "But Jack McCoy once hit me in the face and when I complained, you did nothing about it. Does this mean—"

The Director interrupted, "Michael, Jack McCoy comes from a different background. You two are not on the same level. Stick to your level, which is below Jack McCoy and his father."

The words, leaving Michael in disbelief.

"Different background?" he muttered to himself, questioning the fairness within the institution that seemed to favor the privileged.

As Michael, still dumbfounded, turned to walk away, the Director's voice called after him. "Michael Wayne."

He halted, awaiting whatever news awaited him.

"Even after the suspension, you won't be working as the janitor anymore. The school has decided to relieve you of that position," the Director declared, delivering another blow to Michael's already shattered world.

His heart sank, and a wave of sorrow washed over him. In a single day, he had lost all his jobs, and his life seemed to crumble around him. Yet, beneath the weight of it all, anger and rage fueled through him.

With a stomp and a clenched jaw, Michael stormed away, leaving behind the shattered remnants of the life he had struggled to build for himself.

Exiting the school gate, Michael found himself confronted by an expensive black Porsche. 

The windows slowly descended, revealing Sydney and Jack lounging inside, a mocking smile playing on Jack's face. Sydney wasted no time in reveling in the moment.

"Did you catch the performance, Michael?" she chuckled. 

"Consider it just the beginning. My boyfriend has promised to turn your life into a living hell. This is just the prelude to the misery coming your way."

As Michael stood there, Sydney and Jack's laughter echoing in his ears. 

"Now, you see you are born to be a loser!" Sydney's cruel laughter reverberated, accompanied by Jack's silent but malicious smile.

They arrogantly drove away, leaving Michael alone with bitterness and pain bathing him.

In the midst of his distress, just before he could take a step forward, a black sedan quietly approached, its window gliding down to reveal a man in a sharp black suit. 

Michael eyed him warily, uncertainty etched across his face. Could he be getting into another trouble from Jack 

?

"Michael Wayne, right?" the man inquired, his tone formal.

"Yeah, that's me. Who are you?" Michael responded cautiously, keeping his guard up.

He hesitated to admit it was his name at first since the man was a total stranger.

The man stepped out of the car and sighed, stretching his hand to offer Michael a handshake.

"Charles Edwin," he declared, adjusting his tie with a confident smile. 

"Gareth Winchester's representative. Emissary of the town's influential billionaire."

Fear gripped Michael; he could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. 

"Gareth Winchester? As in the richest Multibillionaire in the country?" Micheal's whole body trembled in fear.

His mind raced with questions, unsure of what this encounter with Winchester's emissary would entail.

"W-what's this about? Please, I don't want any trouble. I've been through a lot for one day, if Jack McCoy's father sent you her to make me suffer again, then please, show some mercy," he stammered, his voice trembling.

In his heart, fear lingered as he questioned, 

"Am I in some kind of trouble?"

"What does Gareth Winchester want with me?" Michael questioned, a mix of curiosity and anxiety in his voice.

"Let us say, your life is about to take a turn that not even you anticipated," Charles Edwin said to him with a smile.

"I beg of you, I have already suffered enough, and I don't want any form of trouble, especially with any of the rich men in the country, talk more of Gareth Winchester," Micheal said, and Charles chuckled.

"Boy, you're not getting into any form of trouble. I have come with a news that bears the power to transform your life in just a second," Charles said.

Micheal's heart throbbed in his chest, unsure of what was happening.