Given that there is a fair bit of world building already done in Identity, I figured I would write a story about the daily life of my character Carpe Pecuniam. It will most likely be a work in progress that I'll add more to as i'm inspired to do so. Anyway, here goes... My days always begin alone. I wake up in my queen size mattress, with no wife or girlfriend, while this bothers me to a certain extent, It is quickly pushed to the back of my mind. I'm married to my company, there is always time for that later. Dollabank has been growing incredibly quickly since it was first founded. With somewhat of a rocky start, the company was now seeing it's best days. Being the biggest cash cow on the market, I had more responsibility than ever. I needed to make sure everyone from my clients to my investors and especially my employees were all happy. My penthouse, while appearing luxurious to the working class, was actually quite small compared to the other monstrosities that some richer friend's of mine owned. It consisted of a humble living room with a beautiful Bay Window display overlooking the city. This area contained an open kitchen complete with a gas stove, dishwasher, refrigerator and an empty liquor cabinet. The floor was soft bamboo, which easily connected to the hardwood floors of the rest of the house. A marble counter-top lay upon the the open wall of the kitchen, with a few mahogany stools on either side of the fixture. Connected to the living room were two bedrooms to the north of the penthouse and a bedroom and a bathroom on the south side. As i made my usual Tuesday morning breakfast, a 4 egg omelette with chives, french bread, microwave sausage and orange juice, I glanced over at my stove clock: 8:30. It sure is good to be the boss, I thought to myself. Had this been earlier in my career working for JP Morgan I would have to be rushing out the door in order to wait in traffic for an hour. Nowadays, while I pride myself in my diligence and work ethic, I do take a few liberties. If I arrive to work 10 or 15 minutes late, it won't bankrupt me. Locking up my penthouse and taking the elevator down, I find myself with a familiar stranger. We are both wearing a Keys brand suit, so I decide to strike up a conversation. "That suit fits your form really well, was it tailor made?" "Are you hitting on me?" The man replies, rather upset with the homosexual advance he imagined I was making. "Nevermind." I stated quickly, not wanting to invoke any other false allegations. We awkwardly avoided eye contact until the elevator doors opened and I thought I would finally be relieved from the discomfort. This however was not the case. As the man and I both drove to work we have the pleasure of each others and eye contact avoidance until we at last entered the garage and parted ways. I thought saying goodbye or making a remark about seeing him tomorrow, would be appropriate, however given the probability that he would most likely perceive the remark as a homosexual advance, I thought better of it. Given that it was Tuesday I decided on driving my BMW, the other two choices being my much older Rolls Royce, and my newer, midlife crisis (even though I'm in my 30s), Lamborghini. I drove my BMW on Tuesdays through Thursday given it's higher fuel economy, the other two cars I mostly use for board meetings (and Mondays) and night my night life respectively. My drive to work was uneventful as usual. I flipped through the radio stations and decided on 44.3 Outlaw. It was mostly advertisements for the upcoming election, I took a mental note of some of the candidates, but I wasn't paying too much attention. On my route I did pass by the DollaBank billboard I just made a payment on. My father being a billboard salesmen, it filled me with a sense of pride to see my company's brand being elevated on a pedestal above a major highway on a glorious, white billboard. Even if it wasn't the most optimal way to advertise, I still feel it was worth it. When I finally arrive at my office at 9:40, it was a hectic mess. That is to say, it's usually a hectic mess and today was no different. Anyone who says finance is boring has never worked for me I chuckled to myself. I find it therapeutic to sometimes just stand at the entrance and watch my employees work. As my eyes shift from one to the next, watching them all work hard to complete their daily assignments, I find myself reflecting on how far my company has come. I started DollaBank when this city was just beginning, with only a few employees. The fact that over 50 were working for me now, and it's only been 2 years, it's unbelievable. "Mr. Peciuam, phone call for you." I'm snapped out of my daydream by the caring, yet urgent voice of my secretary. "Sorry about that Lynda" I said. "Put them on speaker in my office, I'll be there in a minute. Did you catch who it was by any chance?" "It's The People's Party, they want you to support them in the race and donate to their campaign. Also try and make it quick, there is a representative of the Langston Family in the lobby" "What?" I croaked, in a manner that failed the convey the anger, confusion, and fear I felt upon hearing that name. "Can't a lower manager tell them to leave? It's against policy for us to involve ourselves with organized crime, not to mention highly illegal. They have no business here, I've been refusing the mob since I first set up shop" "They're refusing to leave unless they see you personally and are saying that, 'we'll make you an offer you can't refuse'" Lynda said this last part in a horribly fake Italian accent. I always wondered how she could take matters involving millions of dollars so lightly. To Be Continued..... Will Post Part 2 Tomorrow.