Terrence Slack, the CEO of Leather-Made which was a huge global corporation in the clothing industry, was not in the greatest of moods.
"Stupid millenials," he grumbled, rubbing his temples, as he gazed at the numerous private messages that were flooding his Twitter profile. "You make one innocuous tweet about some fucking monsters…"
His secretary, Anne Read, glanced up from her computer. "It was rather cruel, sir," she said, adjusting her glasses. "You said that everyone affected by the disease should be corralled together and placed into a labyrinth like the minotaur."
"It was a joke!" He exclaimed. "A little Greek humor!"
"Sure, but the idea isn't far away from the idea of concentration camps," she said, looking back at her computer.
Terrence scowled. If it had been anyone else, he would have kicked them out of the company right away if they had been talking to him like this. But Anne had been an invaluable partner for most of his life, though not in that way.
"You'd better write up an apology quick," she added. "Stocks are already tanking and other brands have begun to also criticize you."
He rolled his eyes and stood up, grabbing his phone and jacket. "I'll come up with something when I get home." He began to head for the exit. "Make sure you send my schedule… my schedule…" Fuck. All of a sudden he felt a little lightheaded.
"Sir?" Anne glanced at him, before jumping out of her seat. "Sir!"
That was the last thing he heard before his legs gave way out from underneath him and he blacked out.
___
Terrence woke up in a hospital in a bed, feeling extremely weak. He looked to his right to see Anne, wearing different clothes, typing away at a computer next to him. "What happened?" He croaked out, startling her.
"Terrence," she muttered silently, which alarmed him. He had never heard her call him by his name. "I'm sorry. But they…" she swallowed. "But they say you have the Monster Virus. You're going to turn into a monster."
Terrence was so shocked he barely heard her next words. "They recommended you go to therapy for the next week to help you adjust as you transform. I think we should make this publix as soon as possible, just so it doesn't hurt the company too much and it's easier to transfer any documentation over to your new body. They don't know what you're going to become, so I think it's better safe than sorry-!"
"No," he said, sitting up.
Anne looked puzzled. "Excuse me, sir?"
"Don't tell anyone about this Anne," he ordered. "Tell everyone I'm taking a break for a week. Hire and find the best scientists and doctors you can." He gritted his teeth. "I want to be cured."
"But sir. There is no-!"
"Anne!" He nearly shouted. "I'm not turning into one of them!"
Anne studied his face before sighing. "As you wish, sir," she muttered, looking back at her laptop.
Terrence glanced down at his own body. Nothing looked like it had changed yet, but he had heard about the telltale signs of the Monster Virus. He had seen them but chalked it up to overworking and just needing to have some sex to relax. But if he was turned into a monster, his life would be ruined.
He wasn't about to let that happen.