Myriadviper42
Fulcrum Agent
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2010
- Location
- Control
So, here I am, back into the often dangerous field of writing. I've had a long period of absence on ZD, mainly due to conflicts with school. I've been very, very busy, with multiple projects going on at once, both for school, and story ideas in my own mind. This is one of them. It will be part of a trilogy, and I daresay it's the best piece of writing I've ever created. I will post an update once every other day due to the fact that I actually have the whole story done, and therefore, there is no writer's block. So, for now, enjoy....
The plain truth is that the world of businessmen and politicians is far more dangerous than the world of the military or of terrorism. A deal or an investment can do just as much, if not more, damage than a soldier. And although good intentions are in politicians’ minds some of the time, it does not always turn out the best for the people. There are some businessmen or politicians who don’t even try to help the people around them, and are only concerned for their own interest. Our despicable villain, christened Joseph Michael Slater, was one of these arrogant and heartless manipulators.
Mr. Slater, of course, wore his mask of public decency and gray eyes wherever he went, shaking hands with fellow entrepreneurs and the like, always listening, nodding, laughing. He was remarked as looking sharp, with combed back light-brown hair, angular features, and a tuxedo. He had many friends, and his enemies had all been driven to bankruptcy or were mysteriously missing. The sum of money he had acquired was substantial, enough even as to retire and live happily, but still he pressed on with his work, with only the people’s interests in mind. Well, one person in particular.
Celebrating the day’s investments, he on a rare occasion headed into the local casino. He had managed to successfully bribe a corporate tycoon into giving him access to a mining deposit-a deal that would prove far more profitable for Slater than the other man in the long run. “Wine, please. The best,” he told the bartender, prepared to indulge himself in his successes. He began to drink a couple of rounds, and started to gamble with others. He was successful for a time, however he began to grow arrogant and intoxicated. His next gamble sent his profits down the drain. Realizing that he had lost too much money, he snapped out of drunkenness and fled the casino.
For the first time since he was a child, he was afraid. Debts were owed, and he had little money to pay. The time would come when he would have to pay for his deeds, but Slater knew that he would continue to divert destiny to the best of his ability. A plan was already revolving in his head, gears were already turning. A plan to get his money back and more. A plan that involved a businessman he had met earlier during the day, a diplomat-turned-businessman named Randall Brown...
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The man’s brown eyes slowly opened. The rest of his body was groggy with sleep, and although it was a work day, he was tempted to call in sick just because he didn’t want to get up. The man had laugh lines around his mouth, although he was not smiling at the time, wide-set brown eyes, and slightly gelled dark hair. He got up, looking at his prosthetic right leg. The reason he had resigned from being a diplomat, the traumatic experience that had happened five years ago to this day. He managed to put on his suit and tie, and proceeded to go to work, his wife and daughter already having left to their respective jobs as lawyer and toddler.
Randall Brown stopped in the parking lot, getting out and looking around the area, dotted with cars but no people. He proceeded to go inside to his work, smiling at his co workers, helping them out with projects before his own, passing a fellow employee his stapler, and proceeded to head to the meeting room. Something happened, and he stopped in his tracks before entering the room, and turned to his side.
He could have sworn that he had seen someone there whom he had seen the previous day, the slippery, untrustworthy man his boss had introduced to him as Joseph Slater. An entrepreneur, who looked about as genuine as a snake. Talked that way too. Randall was surprised that people hadn’t seen right through him. Perhaps that would remain a mystery until the end of time.
Randall walked into the room, preparing himself to be bored out of his wits with nonsense. Going off topic for a paragraph or two, I hope that the same cannot be said out of this story. I don’t want you to be bored out of your wits with all talk and no action. I know that technically I’m not supposed to get involved, but even so, if you’re bored, I can only tell you this: keep reading. My apologies for interrupting.
After the meeting was finally over, he prepared to leave. Another boring but ultimately rewarding day had flown by and he went back to his office. A pile of papers, which appeared to be mail, had been dropped on his desk. Smiling, he began to sort through them, mostly ads and other trashworthy material. A folded envelope slipped out of the pile, landing on his desk. Curious, he held it up and opened it. Come to the Starbucks next to the office on the corner 47th Street and Oakwood Avenue at 11:39 A.M. precisely. Not a minute earlier, not a minute later. There are matters we might need to discuss regarding the safety of you and your family.
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Slater checked his watch. 11:37 A.M. The foolish man would be here soon, and if not...Slater chuckled. He felt the inside of his coat, reassuringly tapping an inside pocket concealing a gun. He would just have to find another way to gain cash. Perhaps blackmail was a bit old-fashioned, he told himself, but it would obtain good results. 11:38 P.M. Joseph frowned slightly. Perhaps Brown had not understood the implications of the letter, or perhaps he hadn’t cared. Fortunately, it didn’t matter either way, but Brown wouldn't go to the authorities on grounds of blackmail because he would not know who had blackmailed him.
Finally, Mr. Slater spotted the man he was looking for. An unenlightened do-gooder like he’d never seen before amongst the corrupt crowd. Giving several quarters to a blind beggar. Wasteful and unintelligent. Even that could prove costly, what, with all of the trouble Mr. Brown would soon be in. Finally, Brown’s kindly brown eyes found Slater’s, and narrowed. Slater walked up to him, shaking his hand.
“Mr. Brown. It’s a pleasure. I see you received my letter from yesterday.”
“You were the one who sent it? All right now, what is it that you want-”
“Shall we discuss this indoors, with a latte, maybe?”
Brown glared at Slater. “Very well.” The two men walked into the cafe, and Slater proceeded to get himself a drink, offering the same for Brown, but he declined. Slater took a swig of the still-hot coffee, seemingly unperturbed. He smiled thinly. “Shall we get down to business then?” Brown nodded. Slater began to speak.
“Here is the deal. You will provide a total of $10,000 within two days. Obviously that’s asking a lot, but you of all people should be able to pay. We will meet again at this cafe 48 hours from now, and-”
Brown interrupted angrily, “Is this blackmail, Slater? I knew you were untrustworthy from the start, you little snake! And how are you going to force me to pay? What do you have against me that can make me pay?”
Slater’s eyes drifted towards a mother and child playing outside. Brown grasped his wrist, snarling, “No. You will not take my family from me. You won’t. You-”
“Can, Mr. Brown, and will. Calm down, my friend, you’re making a ruckus.” It was true, several people were staring at the duo oddly, and Slater gulped down the rest of his latte. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Remember, 11:39 A.M, on Thursday, same place.” Brown began to protest, curling his fingers into fists, but realized that there was nothing he could do without endangering his family’s safety. Slater knew this, and it was with great satisfaction that Joseph Slater walked away from the coffee place. His debts would be paid after all. People were so easy to manipulate.
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The plain truth is that the world of businessmen and politicians is far more dangerous than the world of the military or of terrorism. A deal or an investment can do just as much, if not more, damage than a soldier. And although good intentions are in politicians’ minds some of the time, it does not always turn out the best for the people. There are some businessmen or politicians who don’t even try to help the people around them, and are only concerned for their own interest. Our despicable villain, christened Joseph Michael Slater, was one of these arrogant and heartless manipulators.
Mr. Slater, of course, wore his mask of public decency and gray eyes wherever he went, shaking hands with fellow entrepreneurs and the like, always listening, nodding, laughing. He was remarked as looking sharp, with combed back light-brown hair, angular features, and a tuxedo. He had many friends, and his enemies had all been driven to bankruptcy or were mysteriously missing. The sum of money he had acquired was substantial, enough even as to retire and live happily, but still he pressed on with his work, with only the people’s interests in mind. Well, one person in particular.
Celebrating the day’s investments, he on a rare occasion headed into the local casino. He had managed to successfully bribe a corporate tycoon into giving him access to a mining deposit-a deal that would prove far more profitable for Slater than the other man in the long run. “Wine, please. The best,” he told the bartender, prepared to indulge himself in his successes. He began to drink a couple of rounds, and started to gamble with others. He was successful for a time, however he began to grow arrogant and intoxicated. His next gamble sent his profits down the drain. Realizing that he had lost too much money, he snapped out of drunkenness and fled the casino.
For the first time since he was a child, he was afraid. Debts were owed, and he had little money to pay. The time would come when he would have to pay for his deeds, but Slater knew that he would continue to divert destiny to the best of his ability. A plan was already revolving in his head, gears were already turning. A plan to get his money back and more. A plan that involved a businessman he had met earlier during the day, a diplomat-turned-businessman named Randall Brown...
---------------------------------------------------------------------
The man’s brown eyes slowly opened. The rest of his body was groggy with sleep, and although it was a work day, he was tempted to call in sick just because he didn’t want to get up. The man had laugh lines around his mouth, although he was not smiling at the time, wide-set brown eyes, and slightly gelled dark hair. He got up, looking at his prosthetic right leg. The reason he had resigned from being a diplomat, the traumatic experience that had happened five years ago to this day. He managed to put on his suit and tie, and proceeded to go to work, his wife and daughter already having left to their respective jobs as lawyer and toddler.
Randall Brown stopped in the parking lot, getting out and looking around the area, dotted with cars but no people. He proceeded to go inside to his work, smiling at his co workers, helping them out with projects before his own, passing a fellow employee his stapler, and proceeded to head to the meeting room. Something happened, and he stopped in his tracks before entering the room, and turned to his side.
He could have sworn that he had seen someone there whom he had seen the previous day, the slippery, untrustworthy man his boss had introduced to him as Joseph Slater. An entrepreneur, who looked about as genuine as a snake. Talked that way too. Randall was surprised that people hadn’t seen right through him. Perhaps that would remain a mystery until the end of time.
Randall walked into the room, preparing himself to be bored out of his wits with nonsense. Going off topic for a paragraph or two, I hope that the same cannot be said out of this story. I don’t want you to be bored out of your wits with all talk and no action. I know that technically I’m not supposed to get involved, but even so, if you’re bored, I can only tell you this: keep reading. My apologies for interrupting.
After the meeting was finally over, he prepared to leave. Another boring but ultimately rewarding day had flown by and he went back to his office. A pile of papers, which appeared to be mail, had been dropped on his desk. Smiling, he began to sort through them, mostly ads and other trashworthy material. A folded envelope slipped out of the pile, landing on his desk. Curious, he held it up and opened it. Come to the Starbucks next to the office on the corner 47th Street and Oakwood Avenue at 11:39 A.M. precisely. Not a minute earlier, not a minute later. There are matters we might need to discuss regarding the safety of you and your family.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Slater checked his watch. 11:37 A.M. The foolish man would be here soon, and if not...Slater chuckled. He felt the inside of his coat, reassuringly tapping an inside pocket concealing a gun. He would just have to find another way to gain cash. Perhaps blackmail was a bit old-fashioned, he told himself, but it would obtain good results. 11:38 P.M. Joseph frowned slightly. Perhaps Brown had not understood the implications of the letter, or perhaps he hadn’t cared. Fortunately, it didn’t matter either way, but Brown wouldn't go to the authorities on grounds of blackmail because he would not know who had blackmailed him.
Finally, Mr. Slater spotted the man he was looking for. An unenlightened do-gooder like he’d never seen before amongst the corrupt crowd. Giving several quarters to a blind beggar. Wasteful and unintelligent. Even that could prove costly, what, with all of the trouble Mr. Brown would soon be in. Finally, Brown’s kindly brown eyes found Slater’s, and narrowed. Slater walked up to him, shaking his hand.
“Mr. Brown. It’s a pleasure. I see you received my letter from yesterday.”
“You were the one who sent it? All right now, what is it that you want-”
“Shall we discuss this indoors, with a latte, maybe?”
Brown glared at Slater. “Very well.” The two men walked into the cafe, and Slater proceeded to get himself a drink, offering the same for Brown, but he declined. Slater took a swig of the still-hot coffee, seemingly unperturbed. He smiled thinly. “Shall we get down to business then?” Brown nodded. Slater began to speak.
“Here is the deal. You will provide a total of $10,000 within two days. Obviously that’s asking a lot, but you of all people should be able to pay. We will meet again at this cafe 48 hours from now, and-”
Brown interrupted angrily, “Is this blackmail, Slater? I knew you were untrustworthy from the start, you little snake! And how are you going to force me to pay? What do you have against me that can make me pay?”
Slater’s eyes drifted towards a mother and child playing outside. Brown grasped his wrist, snarling, “No. You will not take my family from me. You won’t. You-”
“Can, Mr. Brown, and will. Calm down, my friend, you’re making a ruckus.” It was true, several people were staring at the duo oddly, and Slater gulped down the rest of his latte. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Remember, 11:39 A.M, on Thursday, same place.” Brown began to protest, curling his fingers into fists, but realized that there was nothing he could do without endangering his family’s safety. Slater knew this, and it was with great satisfaction that Joseph Slater walked away from the coffee place. His debts would be paid after all. People were so easy to manipulate.
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