Gilded Green

-Gilded Green-

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Midoriya Industries: Making Tomorrow, Today.

-Gilded Green-

-Welcome to Midoriya Industries: Ch2-

The far off patter of rain outside overlapped the muffled machinery like a somber blanket.

Bakugo watched through the thick glass observation window as a small team of engineers worked to repair and inspect his combat suit, on the factory floor below. None of them noticed him, too engrossed in their own work and the deadlines they had to meet. But the lifeless visor of Krieg’s helmet seemed to stare into his soul, even from the distance.

Bakugo shivered, drawing his leather jacket closer around himself, and turned away. His boots echoed against the metal grated floor as he left, but he could feel the helmet’s imaginary glare burning into his back all the way down the hallway, until a set of large metal blast doors closed behind him.

He decided to forgo the crowded elevator, and instead took the empty stairs, as he usually did. This particular factory was Melissa’s personal one, built right under the Golden Towers- Izuku’s home and the central control point of the entire island.

When he opened the door to the ground floor, it was like he was standing in a completely different world.

Thick steel plates changed to polished marble and rich exotic woods. Utilitarian lights built into the wall were replaced by golden chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.

Men and women in business suits buzzed about in the large lobby, which more or less took up the entire first floor, chatting, shaking hands, waiting in lines to talk with various desk workers, and dropping off stacks of documents.

Bakugo got strange looks from passersby, obviously wondering what someone not dressed in thousand dollar clothes was doing here. But although they watched him with a touch of paranoia, no one was rude enough to say anything, he got past the gates and ID checks, after all, he must either be someone vaguely important or had been invited.

No one recognized him or knew who he was- exactly like he preferred it.

He kept his head down and crept along the edges of the room before skipping the line to the front desk, scanning his ID on the device someone else had been waiting to use, walking past the desk, opening a door, ducking into another hallway, taking a left, and scanning his ID again to unlock a reinforced door with a holographic “authorized personnel only” sign above it.

The seven guards in the room jumped to attention and aimed their guns at him when he set off every metal detector they had just by walking through the doorway, but relaxed when they saw who it was- these ones, unfortunately, knew him.

He flashed his ID again as he stepped past the guards, into the area only a handful of people in the entire world had permission to enter, and opened the door to another stairway. These were Izuku’s private stairs, the only way to get from level to level in the building without being continuously accosted for a bloody ID or fingerprint scan.

Naturally, being Izuku’s personal anything, it was very well furnished.

Level by level he climbed the spiral staircase, and the decor only seemed to grow evermore grand the further he went.

Crystal vases, encrusted with gold lining, held some of the most exotic and beautiful flowers on the Earth. They were all vibrant, with not the slightest blemish or hint of wilting, almost as if they had been frozen in time.

A display full of pictures from the first manned trip to mars, and a single red rock.

Timeless renaissance paintings bought for a king’s ransom from world museums hung on the walls behind protective cases. Each had a sprawling plaque next to them that told the life story of the painting and its creator.

A holographic display of ballerinas danced in perfect harmony to a recording of Beethoven's greatest melodies.

The stairs curved, wrapping around a solid marble statue of Douglas Anderson standing heroically on an obsidian platform, he was the marine who gave his life leading the raid to capture Destro. A golden text plate at the base of his feet read: “All give some, but the true Heroes are the some who give all.”

Izuku was the worst mix of a drama queen and a nerd, had far too much money for his hobby, and had no one but Bakugo willing to tell him that his tendency to hoard “cool” things to put on display could get more than a little tacky.

Katsuki ignored every door he came across, each one made of polished dark oak with an elaborate designed gold handle that had the floor number etched into it, until he finally reached the top floor of the building. He opened that door, same as all the rest, and was greeted by a room that seemed out of time.

Carefully preserved tree trunks sat in each corner, stretching from floor to ceiling, designed to look as if they were supporting the room. An ancient record player, salvaged and restored from the late 1900s, played a slow remorseful melody on its perch atop an oak dresser.

A roaring brick fireplace sat along the back wall, filling the room with the smoky smell of cider. On the walls on either side of the fireplace hung the heads of two bears. Between them, mounted on the fireplace itself, was a simple steel saber- a historic relic from the first world war, proudly displayed for everyone to see.

A large window, made of a synthetic clear material as strong as steel, overlooked the entire east side of the island. A light somber rain drizzled over the buildings, accompanied by just enough snow to add a highlight of white to the tallest roofs. Wispy plumes of industrial smoke floated up and into the wind, only to be drawn together and sucked back down by great vacuums, forming ethereal arches that framed an ocean beyond that stretched into the horizon.

A small golden sun, created by a combination of holograms, slowly floated across the ceiling, mimicking the position of the real one in the sky, and lighting the room in a soft warm glow.

In the middle of the room was a large table, carved from the stump of a singular redwood tree, with each of the countless rings easily able to be counted by the naked eye.

And there, sitting at the head of the table, in a silk padded chair close to the fireplace, was Izuku Midoriya in a small pair of reading glasses. His hat and coat hung on the back of the chair, and he was scrolling through documents on his holographic tablet. In his right hand he held a steaming mug of coffee, and had a golden band on his ring finger.

The aging man looked up from his work, at the sound of the door, and his face lit up at the sight of his oldest friend.

“Kaachan!” He smiled and put down his device. “It’s good to see you again, old chap.”

“It’s been a while, bud.”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry.” Izuku stood up and grabbed Bakugo in a brief one armed hug. “Me and Melissa were only supposed to be on vacation for a few weeks, but then the whole fiasco with that escaped criminal happened and we’ve been stuck flying all around the globe playing damage control.”

“Yeah, ‘vacation’, sure.” The blond chuckled and took a seat at the table. “You know most couples only have one honeymoon, right? And usually it’s after the wedding.”

“Most couples aren’t Melissa and I.” Izuku let out a tired laugh that turned into a withering sigh. “Then again, if everyone else was Milissa and I, half the problems on this blasted island would never occur in the first place. We were barely even gone a month and the entire place literally burnt down.”

“You’re… taking that better than I thought you would.”

“You think so?”

“Well you’re not flipping your lid and screaming bloody murder.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m absolutely livid.” Izuku snarled, his serene smile dropping into a sneer. “But not at you, you did nothing wrong- Hell, you’re one of the only people on the fucking island that did things right. You were brilliant, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. But unfortunately not all of your coworkers share your penchant to take action.”

Izuku sighed and flicked his wrist, the holographic screen disappeared, revealing a thin sheet of matte black material that almost looked like it was made of tiny sand grains stuck together.

The M-Scroll, brainchild of Midoriya and Melissa, shifted and repeatedly folded in on itself until it was a small rectangle half the size of his palm, and was easily slipped into his shirt pocket, along with the reading glasses.

“As much as I want to catch up with you, I’m busy preparing for the emergency board meeting I called. You don’t have to attend, I’m mainly going to be yelling at people who did things wrong, and as I said, you did everything right. But if you want to swing by, I would appreciate the moral support. I love Melissa, I really do, but she’s…” He paused and mulled over the words. “Nice to people.”

“I distinctly remember you babbling on and on about how that was one of her best features when you first met and had a crush on her.”

“Oh it is, and I wouldn’t change her for anything, but you can’t be nice in business. Back when we were building Atlas off the coast of Alaska’s islands, both the US and Russia claimed Midoriya Industries' new mega factory was in their zone of control, and got together to agree we had to pay full business taxes to both of them. Melissa panicked and wanted to agree to it-”

“But you changed the blueprints at the last second to shave off weight, cut the seafloor anchor, slapped on some giant motors, and drove the thing out into international waters instead.”

“Exactly.” Izuku grinned sharply with the expression of a calculated predator, but that was ruined when he chugged the last third of his coffee and started coughing from the burn of whatever alcohol he’d spiked it with.

-Gilded Green-

Bakugo walked into the meeting room well ahead of schedule, mainly because Izuku and Melissa were busy and he didn’t have anything else to do as long as his suit was in the shop.

The board meeting room was nice, like everything in the building, but was noticeably more spartan. Izuku had been clear that this was a room for business and work, not a place to relax and take it easy.

Already sitting at the large black table table in the center of the room, was someone who had been even earlier than him. A young woman, typing frantically on a M-Scroll in laptop configuration.

She had fair skin, light lavender hair, purple eyes, and wore a white blazer with a high collar and a gold trim that reached halfway down her thighs, its sleeves cut off by wide pale blue cuffs that made her dainty hands look even more petite. She had a large fluffy pink bow on her neck, a white beret-style hat with a black trim, and a golden monocle on her left eye with a chain hanging off it that ended in a small gem.

Saiko Intelli, personally recruited by Izuku for her high IQ, eidetic memory, and (most impressively) because she’d taught herself the ability to multitask efficiently while also keeping her tendency to micro manage things.

She was young, almost too young, not old enough to drink, and barely a year past being a full adult. Izuku’s belief in pure meritocracy was a brilliant thing that opened so many opportunities, but also could be an uncaring beat that put more stress and pressure on the young girl than anyone her age should have to bear.

He almost felt sorry for her.

At the sound of his approach Saiko glanced at him, and her angelic expression melted away into a scowl as she turned up her nose at the sight of him.

“Mut.” She sneered in disgust.

“Bitch.” Bakugo greeted her in turn, and dropped down into his seat across from her.

Almost felt sorry for her, but she happened to be a total unrepentant bitch, and was consistently just a horrible person to anyone she wasn’t kissing up to. So he felt considerably less bad about the nights he heard her crying herself to sleep.

Saiko bristled at the insult.

“I’ll make you regret every slight you’ve ever spoken against me when Mr Midoriya finally realizes just how worthless you are and kicks you to the curb!”

“You know, one day you’re going to piss the wrong person off, I’m going to be the one to stop the assassination. The other’s at least have the self awareness to pretend they like me when talking to my face.”

“Arrogant cur! You will do nothing! After the utter embarrassment of the guard forces the other day, you’re insane to think you’ll be leaving this room with your badge, much less employed!”

“Well I was hoping to leave here without a headache.” He groaned and massaged his forehead. “But that plan was shot the moment you opened your mouth.”

“How dare you! I ought to-”

“You’ll do what, Saiko?”

The girl paled at the voice, and Bakugo smiled at the familiar tone.

“Hey Mel.” He greeted as he leaned back in his chair and waved at the door. “How was the honeymoon?”

“Hey Baku-Bro.” Melissa Shield jogged over and swamped him in a big hug. “And it wasn't a honeymoon, you have to be married for that. Think of it more as a warm up!” She giggled. “And Izuku told me to say it was a business trip, for tax write off purposes.”

“M-Miss Shield! It’s such a pleasure to make your acquaintance again!” Saiko said with an almost pathetic desperation smothered under a genuine want to impress. “We see each other so infrequently, I feel it almost borders on inefficient, my schedule is always free if you ever want to discuss anything at all!”

“That’s what these meetings are for, Saiko. To discuss important things. Our departments are different enough that anything we would need to settle would come up in one of these meetings anyway.”

Melissa sat down in the seat next to Bakugo, giving him a clear view of her. Blond hair, sparkling eyes, and wearing a white dress made of the finest silks with matching pearl earrings. She held herself confidently, and looked every bit like the princess Izuku described her as in the old love letters he was too embarrassed to ever send.

Of course the image was broken by the big oil smear on her cheek that she’d somehow missed when changing out of her work clothes, but somehow that only added to her charm.

“But Miss Shield-” Saiko’s objection was cut off as two more people entered the room.

The first was a very tall man in a bright red suit that was made to look even brighter with how it contrasted with his ghostly pale skin. He had a custom M-Scroll sitting atop his short blue hair in a band shape, which projected a consistent stream of orange holograms right in front of his face like a HUD of some sort.

“You know Flect, one day you’re gonna hit your head on a door frame, but I can’t tell if it’s gonna be because you were too tall, or because you just couldn’t see anything with all that junk in your face.” The man behind him said as he slunk into the room with his hands in his suit pockets, and an expensive cigar in his mouth.

He looked unbearingly sleazy, which was probably why Izuku had him help file company taxes.

“It’s the most efficient form of data communication short of hooking myself into a computer. But then again, you wouldn’t know efficiency if I showed it to you in the dictionary, Girian.”

“Heeey, I know plenty of shortcuts.” The man said with a smirk as he sat in his seat.

“Shortcuts are not the same as being efficient.”

“They are if they get you the same end result.”

Bakugo ignored their bickering and watched the door, waiting for the other directors to arrive.

Chitose Kizuki, a woman with deep purple hair and a exotic fur coat was the next to enter, talking on her phone about something or another about advertising rates.

Then, much later than anyone else, literally half a second before the clock flipped to 3:01 PM and he would be considered late, Yokumiru Mera strolled in looking as disheveled as always. The blond man carried a stack of paperwork under his arm that looked even heavier than the bags under his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled, his tie undone, and with all the yawning the man was doing he had either been dragged out of a nap that he’d been in for several days, or he hadn’t slept at all for that same amount of time.

With Yoku, it was a coinflip on which was the case.

With the insomniac slumping into his seat like dropped puppet, the only person they were still waiting on was Izuku, other than that the entire board of directors was here.

The board of directors, listed in level of increasing job importance, was as follows:

The chief of security, Bakugo Katsuki.

The marketing director, Chitose Kizuki. (Who got the position after Izuku bought out her publishing company.)

The chief of staff, Saiko Intelli.

The head of human resources, Kagero “Girian” Okuta.

The head of research and development, Melissa Shield.

The exterior director, in charge of overseeing what the company does off the island, Yokumiru Mera.

The interior director, in charge of overseeing what the company does on the island, Flect Turn.

And finally, the CEO of the company and head of the board, Izuku Midoriya.

There was also an empty seat that had been added for Rikiya Yotsubashi, CEO of the enormous Detnerat company, which Midoriya industries had purchased last year in a controversial acquisition and turned into a subsidiary company. But he didn’t really have much input, and rarely ever came to the island, usually only for quarterly meetings. As far as Bakugo knew, he wasn’t even called to this one today.

The door to the room slammed open, and everyone collectively shut up as a very pissed off Izuku marched into the room.

“I would thank you all for coming here today, but frankly I’m shocked any of you managed to find the right room, with how incompetently inept you all proved yourselves to be yesterday.”

He ignored his chair and swept towards the front of the room, violently jabbing his walking cane into the ground with every step. He snapped his fingers and a projector on the ceiling beamed a familiar holographic 3D picture onto the table.

“Can anyone tell me what this is? Anyone at all?”

“It’s, um, it’s the blueprint for Atlas, sir?” Saiko said hesitantly.

“Very good!” Izuku cheered and applauded her with so much sarcasm Bakugo was surprised no one started choking on it. “It’s the fucking island you all have been living on for past fucking decade! Good job! I’m so impressed!”

The diagram split the island into clearly marked “rings”. District A: “Management” was the smallest area at the very center of the island. District B: “Residential” was the second smallest, and was unique, it has green clearly visible on the picture, and a large wall barricading it from the further rings. District C: “Commercial” was only slightly smaller than its brother, District D: “Industrial” and together they took up the vast majority of the island.

There was also the somewhat unofficial “Shipping” district, which was a collection of disconnected yellow lines and scattered dots that ran along the sections of the coast that had docks built into them.

“Can anyone tell me, off the top of their head, what’s special about this island?”

“It’s unrivaled production output compared to anywhere else in the world.” Fect stated.

“It’s the head of Midoriya Industries?” Chitose suggested.

“In accordance to the UN’s Law of the Sea, standardized in UNCLOSIII, t’s outside of any sovereign nation’s Exclusive Economic Zone, meaning we can slip the net on most taxes.” Girian said smugly.

But none of it was the answer Izuku wanted, and Melissa just sat there with an entertained look on her face as she watched the other directors fumble about.

“It floats.” Bakugo said, butting his way into the conversation.

“THANK YOU!” Izuku shouted and with a wave of his hand the hologram shifted, raising the island into the air where it floated along tiny waves. Under it, five long mechanical elevators slowly extended themselves to the ocean floor and began drilling into the rock in search of minerals or oil

“Atlas is not like other islands, it doesn’t have solid land under it. It floats. Now Bakugo, can you explain to the less intelligent among us, how it floats?”

“A combination of the engines and the rows of huge ballast tanks built under district B, the fuel storage and engine controls are also under district B.”

“Now Bakugo, knowing this, can you put the pieces together for us, and tell us why an out of control fire, and rampaging mob, ripping apart everything trying to break into district B, is a very bad thing.”

“Because if district B suffers critical damage, or the fire makes its way down into the machinery, then the island sinks because metal doesn’t float, and the vast majority of everyone on the island drowns. Or if the situation is really bad, and the damage spreads beneath district A, then it could cause the cold fusion reactor to go critical, and vaporize all of us instantly. It’s why we have a wall separating the inner districts from the outer ones.”

The directors at the table all looked at Bakugo with faces several shades paler than usual, Saiko specifically looked horrified.

“And you were the only one running damage control, to keep everyone from dying.” Izuku said as he and Melissa started clapping enthusiastically, and he glared at the rest of the table when they didn’t join in.

“Go on! Clap! This man risked his life fighting a terrorist group to save your asses, so fucking clap for him!”

The rest of the board members eagerly joined in, even if several of them (Saiko in particular) looked like they really didn’t want to.

Once Bakugo had retreated his head into his hands in embarrassment, and Izuku had had enough, Melissa stood up and addressed the Board.

“We’re an island. We don’t have a completely different set of safety regulations than any other sea vessel. We don’t have the passenger to life craft ratio that something like a cruise ship is required to have: and even if we wanted to It wouldn’t be physically possible with how many people live here.”

“Letting anything happen to Atlas is so beyond unacceptable that I don’t even have words for it.” Izuku said, stepping over to stand next to his wife-to-be. “Even putting aside the human cost, the sheer amount of capital that would disappear would crumble Midoriya Industries from the inside out, and probably drag the world economy into a recession. I will accept nothing less than keeping this boat intact, undamaged, and completely safe.”

Green eyes slid to Bakugo.

“This Destrovite group has been a nuisance for a while now, but this is crossing every line at once. So I’m giving you all a heads up, your paperwork is about to get a lot worse, because Melissa and I have agreed to shake things up.”

-Gilded Green-

All along the industrial district, huge factories full of enormous machines worked unceasingly to turn raw material, mined from beneath the ocean floor, into products sold around the world.

Normally such a comparatively small land area could never dream of having the industrial capacity to make goods in the quantity needed to supply Midoriya Industries’ global demand, but by taking advantage of the powers known as “Meta Abilities”, Midoriya Industries had been able to bring over three quarters of their production to the island, where it was free from the pesky tax codes on the mainland.

It was a delicate balance, however, and if any of the main factory lines, no matter how small, went out of commission, then getting it back online was priority number one for the manager in charge of the building.

One such facility was in that exact situation. A power surge had fried some of the components in the depths of a steel mill, which would normally require the giant blast furnace to be taken apart and reassembled, which could take up to a week. A week of no production and no income, with the pencil pushers up in district A waiting like vultures for a chance to fine the place for missing the quota the manager had agreed to for that month.

Luckily this was Atlas Island! Where thanks to the efficient application of Meta workers, impossible didn’t exist!

“Safety regulations don’t fucking exist either.” Setsuna grumbled through grit teeth as she slowly shimmied her way down the tight squeeze of the massive furnace’s exhaust pipe.

Her hand led the way, hopping down the claustrophobic metal tunnel with a tiny flashlight pinched between two fingers, and a screwdriver between two others. Her head shimmied after it with half a toolbelt gripped in her teeth.

The rest of her body was sitting in a chair just outside. According to the doctors her quirk, Splitter, let her detach her limbs by creating portals that kept all the pieces of her body still connected together, letting blood pump from her heart, through the strange black spot on her neck, into her detached head, and then back again. But she had no way of knowing if her quirk had a range to it, and she really didn’t want to test it.

Her face, hair, and skin were covered in black soot that had rubbed off on her from the walls. She even had gotten some in her left eye, which was squeezed shut in pain, because the last time she wore goggles to do this she’d almost gotten her head stuck.

Slowly she worked her way deeper into the machine until she found a hatch she could unscrew and roll out of the pipe and into the slightly less cramped mechanical insides. From there it was pretty simple to find the problem- a blown out capacitor with fire damage to it, and a whole heap of fired wires.

“Ugh. Mr Hikiishi’s not gonna like this.”

She spat out the toolbelt, walked her hand over to pull out some fresh wires along with some tools, and got to work.

A little less than an hour later, her head and hand rolled out of the exhaust pipe and onto the rusted floor of the factory.

“Tokage!” Her boss noticed her almost immediately, and stopped shouting at some other employee to march over. “What the Hell took so long!”

“The damage was worse than you expected, Mr Hikiishi.” Setsuna said flatly.

She was too tired to float her head off the ground, so she had her body stand up from the chair and come over to her instead. She gently scooped her head off the floor and put it on her shoulders where it seamlessly reconnected to her neck. When she opened her eyes it was to the sight of a very pissed off boss.

Mr Hikiishi was a greasy overweight man that was past his prime in every way. From the flabs on his gut, to the sunglasses he wore to hide the cataract developing in his left eye, to the odd way he combed his shoulder length red hair in an attempt to hide the fact he was balding.

“What do you mean it was worse? What did you do?” He growled

“I didn’t do anything to it, you’re the one who runs the thing at full capacity without any breaks. There’s a capacitor down in there that’s completely blown out, it’ll have to be completely replaced before you can turn the thing on again.”

“You were supposed to fix it!”

“The contract you gave was for me to come in and fix damaged wiring, which I did. But there’s also a capacitor that needs to be completely replaced. That was not a part of this contract, and even if I wanted to fix it while I was down there, you didn’t give me the part necessary to make a repair.”

“Fine. Fine!” He spat, spittle drops landing on her face. “I’ll order the replacement part, but the moment it gets here I expect you to already be crawling back down into my machine! Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now get out!”

“No sir.”

He paused for a moment, caught off guard, before his face went red and he wheeled back around on her.

“What do you mean no!? Get out of my fucking building, or you’re fired!”

“Not until you pay me, sir.” Setsuna said calmly and with as much as a level voice as she could manage, while biting back the growing desire to punch this fucking man child.

“I’m not giving you shit until you finish the job that you failed to do!”

“My contract said my job was to enter the machine and fix the wiring. I entered the machine and fixed the wiring. I have a copy of the documents saved on my M-Scroll, and need payment for my work.”

Hikiishi scowled at her, and she wondered if she would have to take her contract to one of the offices around town to file a complaint. But he did eventually pull out his wallet and shoved a handful of company scrip at her before stomping away.

Deciding she’d already pushed her luck, Setsuna made a hasty retreat out of the building.

-Gilded Green-

“What a fucking day.” Setsuna sighed as she walked through the dirty, run down, and smog filled streets of the Industrial district.

The pollution collectors may have been enough to keep most of the stuff from floating off into the atmosphere, but pulling all that shit down to the ground wasn’t all that great for the people nearby. Which was almost certainly why those assholes up in A and B put the things all the way out here, she grumbled to herself.

She pulled out her petty earnings for the day and started adding up the scrip from her three jobs. Normally that would be a good way to get yourself robbed, but with all the guards around since the riot a few days ago, she wasn’t that concerned.

A muffled jingle of music accompanied by purple lights caught her attention as she turned the corner.

A large building stood out among everything around it, and automatically drew the attention of anyone in the area. It was bigger, cleaner, and so much more refined looking than anything else around it.

Gilded arches of fake gold framed a pair of open doors, letting the sound of music and laughter spill out into the world beyond. Above the door, was a huge neon sign of a green haired man in a suit holding up a red bottle, he had a wide smile, and his left arm was a separate sign attached to a motor, making him slowly wave for people to come on in.

There wasn’t a single person on the island who wouldn’t recognize Izuku Midoriya at half a glance.

A full fledged company bar sitting on a prime piece of land, on the main street that led from the factories up into the main apartment block area in district C? It was a trap, such an absurdly obvious trap to catch people at their lowest, after hours of back breaking work, and tempt them to part with their freshly earned scrip.

It was a trap for the same reason everything on the island was cheaper to purchase with company scrip than it was if you waited through the artificially long lines at a conversion desk to swap scrip in for Dollars or Yen.

But knowing it was a trap didn’t make it any less painfully difficult to resist.

Setsuna looked down at the small ball of thin paper slips in her hand and let out a shaky breath that contained years of emotions.

It was so much more than she could have possibly earned back home, but that only served to make the pathetic amount sting in a different way.

“Happy Birthday, Sets.” She said to herself, as she stuffed the paper back into her pocket, and let herself be pulled towards the bar. She was already regretting it, but alcohol was pretty good at getting rid of that.

-Chapter End-

“Company scrip is scrip issued by a company to pay its employees. It can only be exchanged in company stores owned by the employers. In the United Kingdom, such truck systems have long been formally outlawed under the Truck Acts. In the United States, payment in scrip became illegal in 1938 as part of the Fair Labor Standards Act. In the United States, mining and logging camps were typically created, owned and operated by a single company. These locations, some quite remote, were often cash poor; even in ones that were not, workers paid in scrip had little choice but to purchase goods at a company store, as exchange into currency, if even available, would exhaust some of the value via the exchange fee. With this economic monopoly, the employer could place large markups on goods, making workers dependent on the company, thus enforcing employee ‘loyalty’”

-Wikipedia.