🏢 The Skyscrapers of Doom sit in chairs far too small for them.

Highrise’s knees are up to his chest.

Hightower’s chair is bending like it’s reconsidering its life choices.Mr. Wallstreet stands at the front with a projector remote, smiling like a man who believes he can teach two kaiju how to do algebra.On the screen behind him:

“BRAND EXPANSION STRATEGY — Q2: DOOM BUT PROFITABLE”

💼 MR. WALLSTREET:

“Gentlemen, congratulations on advancing. With my strategic intervention, of course.”Highrise raises a hand.

HIGHRISE:

“You mean when you hit that guy with a briefcase.”

MR. WALLSTREET:

“It was a financial instrument."

Hightower nods solemnly.

HIGHTOWER:

“Yeah. It financially instrumented his face.”

Wallstreet pinches the bridge of his nose.

💼 MR. WALLSTREET:

“Anyway. We need to talk about your image. You’re monsters, yes, but you’re also assets. Assets need polish. Assets need presentation. Assets need—”

Highrise leans forward.

HIGHRISE:

“Snacks?”

MR. WALLSTREET:

“…No. Well, yes, but not now.”

Hightower raises a hand.

HIGHTOWER:

“Can we have snacks later?”

MR. WALLSTREET:

“Yes, Hightower, you can have snacks later.”

Both Skyscrapers fist‑pump like they just won the tag titles.

🏙️ Wallstreet clicks to the next slide.

“PUBLIC SPEAKING FOR TITANIC MENACES”

MR. WALLSTREET:

“Let’s practice your promo skills. Highrise, you go first. Tell the world why you’re unstoppable.”

Highrise stands, clears his throat, and delivers:

HIGHRISE:

“We are unstoppable because… uh… because… we’re really tall.”

Wallstreet stares.

MR. WALLSTREET:

“That’s it?”

HIGHRISE:

“…We’re really tall.”

Hightower claps proudly.

💼 MR. WALLSTREET:

“Okay. Hightower, your turn. Intimidate me.”

Hightower stands, looms over Wallstreet, and says:

HIGHTOWER:

“Give us snacks.”

MR. WALLSTREET:

“That’s not intimidation.”

HIGHTOWER:

“It is if you don’t give us snacks.”

Wallstreet blinks.

“…Fair.”

🏢 Wallstreet switches to another slide.

“HOW TO CELEBRATE A VICTORY WITHOUT BREAKING COMPANY PROPERTY”

Highrise raises his hand again.

HIGHRISE:

“What if the property started it."

MR. WALLSTREET:

“It didn’t.”

HIGHTOWER:

“The table looked at me funny.”

MR. WALLSTREET:

“It’s a table.”

HIGHTOWER:

“A disrespectful table.”

Wallstreet sighs the sigh of a man who knows he’s losing.

💼 MR. WALLSTREET:

“Look. You'll advance tonight because I'll give you the edge. The briefcase shot. The distraction. The perfectly timed market crash metaphor. But if you want to keep winning, you need discipline. The refs will eventually catch on."

The Skyscrapers exchange a look.

Then Highrise speaks.

HIGHRISE:

“We appreciate you, boss.”

Hightower nods.

HIGHTOWER:

“Yeah. Nobody ever tried to teach us stuff before.”

Wallstreet freezes.

This is not the response he expected.

Not the response he’s prepared for.

💼 MR. WALLSTREET (softening):

“Well… someone should. You two have potential. Real potential. You’re not just monsters. You’re investments."

Highrise smiles behind his mask.

Hightower wipes a tear (or sweat, unclear).

HIGHTOWER:

“Does this mean we get snacks now?”

Wallstreet sighs.

“…Yes. Yes, you get snacks.”

The Skyscrapers cheer like children at a birthday party.

🏙️ As they leave the room…Wallstreet watches them go — two massive, destructive, loyal skyscrapers who trust him more than anyone else ever has.

He straightens his tie.

He smirks.

MR. WALLSTREET:

“Buy the dip…

…and ride the rip."