“This is the perfect opportunity!” Jordan’s fist slammed down onto the desk, the contents in it rattling. “The freelancers are weak right now. There is no other times to do this.”
“But we aren’t strong either.” Boss growled. “If we weren’t being screwed over by the slums right now, I’d say yes. But right we are so no!”
“Then how are you going to explain Garth’s mission?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Why shouldn’t I know about that? Do I have no right to know what my men have gone off to do?”
“You obviously knew about it before hand.”
“What evidence do you have?”
Boss glared at him.
“The slums weren’t screwing us over back then.”
“Yeah, sure. And then the next day, a bunch of people just decided to slum 8 domes. Do you think I’m stupid? Since when did slummers become organized?”
“It’s too late now. They know that someone might come from the domes to attack them. What do you think?”
“Do I have to do the same thing as Garth? If you openly declare war against them, will they fight back?”
“Of course they will.”
“Then do that.”
Boss stared at Jordan.
“What kind of stupid idea it that. You want the freelancers to attack us while we’re being screwed by the slums. Do you think we’ll survive this?”
“It’s a gamble. It’ll be them or us. One of us will survive. Do you think that the freelancers will help them?”
“Well they won’t help us.” Boss muttered.
“If we succeed then we can get rid of both of them once and for all. Isn’t that better.”
“Son, you’re fucking crazy.” Boss looked up at him.
“No. I am not crazy. You know how powerful we are. What are you worried about. Are those little thugs scaring you? You coward!”
“Do not call your father a coward!” He bellowed, standing at and glaring at Jordan, his nostrils flaring. Jordan only leaned back cooly in his chair.
“Do you not realize how easy it is to manipulate people when they are angry?” Jordan stood and pressed a hand against Boss’s shoulder. “Calm down old man.”
Boss’s face flushed in anger as he slapped Jordan’s hand off his shoulder.
“You call your father an old man? What a wonderful way to flaunt your youthfulness!”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Jordan cut him off.
“I’m a little tired. We can continue tomorrow when you’re less angry.”
He gave his father a little pat on the back before leaving the room.
Boss fell back into his chair the moment Jordan left, looking as if he had aged 20 years in the matter of seconds. He looked tired, his hair gray. The wrinkles on his face sagged. He really was starting to get too old for this. All the pressure. All the shouting and yelling. It was too much on him. But he couldn’t back down now. Not after all that he had done. Jordan’s face. That smirk. Boss wanted to wipe it off his son’s face forever.