The Game We Play

I'm not a stupid man, so I know what it means when a man like Victor Grozny makes you wait. It's about respect, plain and simple and he's making it clear he has none for me. Sure he may have some dirt, but this little punk problem isn't just mine. Every act 5 makes devalues Victors 'assets' and he should know, if he has any brains at all, that makes me dangerous.

The old Oberon Abattoir, a cliched statement if ever I saw one. I despise Victor for his transparency. I'm sure he thought he was very clever, very intimidating. It's pathetic and I wont stand for it. A tap of the foot, an unimpressed look, it's all it takes to show him what I think of his little circus.

I got involved with Victor a while back. It's the way things work anywhere in the world. Some people have power, some people don't and those that do want to make sure it stays that way. We all get into the politics gig to make a difference and I wasn't so naive that I didn't know Victor was the puppet master. I was going to be the one to cut his strings, until he got his claws in. Gotta give him credit, he's good it what he does, finding your weaknesses and exploiting them. I love kids, maybe too much. Apparently love is a crime. That's the kind of world we live in.

The far door opens with a rusty groan of metal against metal and Mr. Bigshot walks in, all pleasantries. What a prick, I wont play his games and so I hit him hard and fast but he comes back with an idle threat and despite his tone he knows he can't touch me, I'm too high profile. I almost shake my head and tut at him for such a childish retreat to violence but that wouldn't be playing the game and at the end of the day, it's all about playing the game.

I tell him this situation with 5 needs dealing with and soon. I don't let on that I know that he knows 5 is a problem for him as well as me. I need that Voice out of the way though, they're messing with the game and to win I need credibility. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

He gives me some BS about his men being on the job, but he's stalling, so I give him a taste, just a taste of the big picture and he just laughs out a transparent allusion to murder. The baboon. He makes me think of those russian dolls, what are they called, Matroska or something like that. He looks big but as you peel the layers away you find he's smaller and smaller until his nothing. Nothing at all.

I let him soil himself with his own bullcrap and leave. I've got what I want. As I step out into light it's like a heavenly glow before I return to the darkness of the blacked out car waiting for me, patting my pocket with satisfaction. I'm smarter than Victor, smarter than 5 and his blasted collaborator MacKenzie and they wont know it until it hits them, hard and fast, just how I like it.

I nod to the driver and the car pulls away with characteristic smoothness. You're not the only one who can dig up dirt Victor, I think to myself, patting the device in my pocket with barely concealed mirth. Not by a long shot.

The End

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