Laurence
was a young billionaire with old problems. He stared into the depths
of his fireplace, continually cracking and blowing with every draft
of wind that came into the house. It rained outside, and the sky
covered in clouds. The ambiance and atmosphere of a warm comforting
place matched with a cloudy exterior would calm some, but not
Laurence. His associate stood facing away from Laurence's red leather
chair, staring into the shadow.
“So,
you authorized it?”
“Yes.”
“You
fucking authorized it?”
“Yes.”
“Are
you out of your god damn mind?” His associate snapped back so
loudly it nearly interrupted Laurence's tranced state of mind. “You
have backed yourself in a legal hole so fucking big you'd be lucky if
you got a death sentence.”
Laurence
was unfazed, pouring himself another shot of whiskey like a gear in
the machine. “That, of course, is if law enforcement ever finds
out.”
“Except
our employees aren't exactly our friends.” The associate paced back
and forth, seemingly stressed by the situation. “Now that they're
out of the contract, they can rat us out anytime. All law enforcement
needs to do is sweeten the deal.”
“So?
We renew the contract.”
The
associate glared into the face of Laurence, who Laurence tried to
avoid. “Renew the fucking contract? What are you going to do, give
them another job? I can't even believe the first damn job. A high
school? You bombed a fucking high school? What was your 'statement of
reason' behind that again?”
Laurence
took another sip of whiskey, taking his time with the shot. He seemed
more focused on the flame than the conversation. “I did it because
I wanted to.”
“You
did it because you fucking wanted to! Isn't that perfect! Inciting
chaos everywhere, you're just like a super-villain.
Fan-fucking-tastic. Except for one thing, hotshot – this is the
real world. There aren't any super-villains here, you understand me?”
Laurence
did not respond.
“Listen,
if media gets attention that you're holding an entire body of trained
assassins at your disposal at all times, people are going to get
suspicious.”
Finally,
Laurence stood up, redirecting his focus from the fire to full
concentration on his associate. “That's why the renewal isn't going
on my name, it will be on yours.”
The
associate stared in straight in the face, shocked. “No, no, no,
no-” went on his refusal, “There's no fucking way you can get me
to agree on that. You see, I don't exactly condone your actions.”
Laurence's
tall stature casted a shadow over the associate's body. His eyes
stared into the others. “Listen, Henry. I got lucky. I made a
business, I made good investments. Now I'm a billionaire. I'm a
billionaire who's young, alone, and bored out of his mind. This
wasn't my decision, this was the decision of the people who put me
here.”
Henry
the associate began to talk, but his words driveled from his mouth.
He hesitated, then finally decided what he was going to say. “Jesus,
look at you. You just want to make a statement. A big bang out before
you die lonely with billions at your disposal. You want to generate
chaos, that's all you care about. 'Oh, what's on our agenda today,
Mr. Laurence? Shoot a few elementary school students? How about
kidnap some female celebrity?' You might as well find out some way to
murder the entire fucking senate!”
The
associate was clearly angered, but the calm of Laurence's face
continued unsubsided. Finally, Henry was subdued.
“You
know what? Fine! I'll sign my name right on your killing spree! In
fact, I'll sign it with god damn, fucking INK!”
The
associate began to storm out, but before he did he stopped and turned
to utter one more word of caution.
“Also,
if I get caught, I'll be the one telling law enforcement. And I'll
give it everything in my power to make sure you get what you
deserve.” With the furious shutting of the door, a loud bang
symbolized the exit of Henry, to which Laurence looked down, grinning
to himself, and whispered.
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