Judas Scarlett was a man that had to be in control. It wasn't so much a mental thing as something that simply had to be. A law of nature or something flowery perhaps, but a necessity all the same. Well, in this moment, Judas felt anything but control. There was a weariness in his soul he hadn't known for some time, and it was a sensation that he despised. Word had reached him concerning Andy's defeat, which left a very raw sensation in his gut. He had plans for that bloated snake, particularly as a scapegoat, but he hadn't accounted for the fact that the boy could not only lift a man three times his size over his head but also toss him literally across town. On the one hand, the Bills were all too happy to seize Andy's territory and men whilst the man was laid up, but that was hardly encouraging when not a one of them could tangle with such strength. To make matters worse, he had put a target on his own back in two folds. First was of course that bounty he had put on the boy's head, making uptown a danger zone for the boy and thus cutting him off from a chance of leaving town. Heaven knew he didn't need that brat possibly attracting unwanted attention after all the special barriers he had to put into place to keep things in town. The second and most obvious target was that placed by his own son. Which reminded him. He approached his desk and tapped the intercom.
"Wendy, could you send my son up, please? There's an...important matter we must discuss."
He took his seat and poured himself a glass of brandy as he waited patiently. About twenty minutes later, his son came stomping into the office. He was holding an ice pack to the back of his head while wearing an angry scowl. Defeat was truly a sour pill to swallow, but it was a necessary medicine for his growing boy. Yes, even now, Judas saw himself in his son: a rugged roughneck with the world to prove but very little sense on how to do it. So, in an odd way, Judas sympathized, even though he suspected his son was plotting his father's downfall behind his back.
"Rough day on the playground, son?" he asked coyly as the doors closed behind his son.
Francis regarded him with utter vitriol, but he offered little in reply as he approached the desk.
"Heard you joined the Serpents." Judas went on. "I'd say you're just old enough to have a tattoo, but I pray you didn't put it in a place that'll be uncomfortable. I have one myself, and I still can't sit on it right."
Francis sneered at that, though the embarrassed blush told Judas enough.
"Ah, didn't quite make the team, eh? Don't take it too hard, son. You'll make it next time."
Now Francis wasn't sure if he was angry or confused, which only left him with annoyed. He eyed his father curiously, expecting subterfuge.
"Surprised that I'm not more upset?" Judas ventured. "That I'm not putting you over my knee or boxing you in the ears for taking our family name and tarnishing it under the tutelage of a known murderer and thief?"
Francis dared to offer a slow nod.
"Please, son, you should know me better. While I have every intention to give you and your sister the life I didn't have at your respective ages, I do want you to have initiative and drive. To become your own people through your own means. In all honesty, I'm actually rather proud of you. For a while, you made a right jackanape of yourself using my money to make yourself look powerful."
Francis scowled and clenched his fists until his knuckles popped. Angry it definitely was.
"I mean, did you really know those people that you paid to follow you around? How many of them were there, anyway? What was the going rate to be in your entourage?"
Francis opened his mouth with a primed, scathing remark, but Judas silenced him with a raised hand.
"Francis Alaskey Scarlett, I have not given you permission to speak, yet. Do remain quiet until I have allowed thus."
Francis shut his mouth, though he started to pout while crossing his arms.
"As I was saying, you riding my coat tails did make me worry. But to submit yourself to another? To allow yourself to be demeaned and looked down upon by several up the food chain while slowly working your way up? That is humility, a very useful tool for carving the path to manhood. I'm very proud of you, son. Granted, you could have found a better group to join, and maybe one that is a bit more legal to cut your teeth on, but I award effort."
He set down his glass, and he leaned forward.
"But, for the second time now, you've picked a fight you couldn't win, and no doubt you're wishing to whine to me and expect me to fix it for you."
Francis exploded.
"He had freaking magic armor!" he roared indignantly. "You didn't see him! He was moving around like he was in the matrix or some nerdy crap; I didn't even see him move! Then he threatened me, said he'd send me to the pearly gates and everything. It really doesn't bother you that he threatened to kill your own kid?"
"Seeing as you were the idiot that decided to invade his home twice, not really." Judas said flatly.
Francis balked at him while Judas gave his head a weary shake.
"Son, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. You have to be strategic in life. You barrel into everything you do, all you're going to do is bang your head against the wall, and your only hope will be that your skull doesn't crack on the first blow. Clearly you still don't know your own limitations, which, and this is my professional opinion, are quite numerous. For that reason, I think it would be for the betterment of all involved if you were no longer in this city. So, arrangements have been made. You and your sister will be going to live with your aunt in England. Your flight is within the hour-the jet is already primed and your things packed. I've even kissed Charlotte's forehead goodbye already."
He started to pour himself another glass, only for Francis to lunge forward and knock the glass out of his hand, sending it flying and shattering against a wall while brandy showered over the entire desk.
"You think you can just ship me away just like a dog in a kennel?!" he thundered while brandishing the brandy bottle. "You stupid old man! I'm not going without a fight, you hear me! I'll not be thrown out like a sack of garbage when I could just..."
Judas's own hand suddenly lashed out and seized his wrist. The brandy bottle now hung in the air, its expensive contents still spilling forth and trickling down Francis' back. The logical look his father had been wearing had melted completely, and in its stead were the eyes of a killer. With quiet finesse, he freed the bottle from Francis' grip and returned it to the table.
"I think you need to have a seat." Judas growled before giving his son a shove.
Francis landed in one of the chairs adjacent to the desk, and then Judas got up, walked around until he was behind his son, and he let both hands clamp on the boy's shoulders with heavy thumps. Francis might as well have been nailed to the chair, and all of his bravado died instantly.
"Listen to me, boy." Judas whispered into his ear venomously. "This is not a request, nor is it a suggestion. It is fact. You are free to run around and act the fool all you like, but the moment you return home my word is law. For all you need be concerned, I am the voice of god, and to ignore me is to invite horrible consequences. I've enough headaches to deal with, and you are only making more. In short, I do not need or want you here, and frankly you're getting yourself in enough trouble that you should be begging me to send you away. Now, you will get on that jet, you will go to England, and you will stay there until I ask for you. Deviate from this course in any fashion, and the gloves come off. I will have no son, and you will be on your own. Do I make myself clear?"
Francis was perfectly rigid, his gut churning and his lip red as he chomped down on it.
"Do I make myself clear?" Judas snarled, gripping down hard Francis' shoulders.
"Yes." Francis squeaked painfully.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
Judas' grip tightened.
"Yes...father!"
Judas grinned, and he let the boy go, allowing him to rise. He then spun the boy around, gave him a hug, and he kissed his forehead.
"There now, see?" he asked, suddenly the perfect picture of fatherhood. "This is all for the best. You and your sister will have a wonderful time together. She's already excited to be a real life princess living in your mother's family castle, and who knows. Maybe you'll become her chosen knight. Stranger things and all that."
Francis wanted to sneer, but he dared not push his luck. Still, there was hatred in his eye, and he didn't offer so much as a goodbye as Judas sent him out. Judas couldn't be anymore concerned about it though. The headache was over, and now came the brain tumor. He made his way over to his desk once more and took his seat. He then reached for the small globe on his desk, which opened on a hinge at the equator to reveal a large red button. Upon pressing, large iron shutters slammed shut over the windows and door, and four small monitors lowered from the ceiling. The first, third, and fourth monitor were fuzzy with static, but in the second a form came through. He appeared to be a young man of about twenty or so years with sandy blonde hair cut into a sideways fringe at the bangs, giving him a boyish appearance. He was wearing a set of black headphones with baby blue padding and a pair of cat ears with a microphone perched by his mouth. He was wearing a motorcycle jacket with the same color scheme with the addition of the word OMNITECH in gold patches spread across both arms.
"Judy!" the young man cheered with open arms. "There he is! The main man! My number one fan! The cream of the crop that rises to the top! Hey how you doing?"
Judas took a careful breath, and he adopted a genial smile while keeping his shoulders straight.
"I am well, Mr. Bres. I'm not interrupting, I pray."
"Nah! You know I always got time for you! You're my number one customer, you know."
Judas couldn't help but notice the practiced tone in the man's voice, and there was something of a dark look in his eye. A look that told Judas he had to be careful, lest he say or do something what would cost him more than he was willing to pay.
"I was hoping that we could discuss our deal." he said.
"Ah, the deal." Bres said with a hint of nostalgia. "It was a good deal, yeah? One of the best. We give you the tools, you give us a city. Equal exchange all around."
He leaned in, and an icy glare came to his face.
"An exchange, I recall, was supposed to be fulfilled almost five years ago."
Judas tried to hide his tremble, and he swallowed hard at a lump in his throat.
"Yes, well, there was the matter of that missing part and..."
"The L.A.N arrived, you just lost it!" Bres cut him off, his eyes briefly flashing red as his hair became an oily black. They immediately resumed their original color as he relaxed. "So I'm to assume you haven't found it again despite getting a five year reprieve?"
That knot in Judas' stomach was getting worse.
"No, I have not. But I have managed to utilize the machine you sent as well as my grab bag equipment to move things along, albeit slowly. I've started preparations for Operation: Shake Up, but without the L.A.N..."
"You can't complete the operation." Bres finished with a weary shake of his head. "Judy, baby, you're weighing me down, man. Total bummersville, ya know. I've already told you that part is irreplaceable due to it being specifically attuned to the apparatus. A failsafe or something like that, but that's all R&D not me. You know, boss man's been reeeeeeally tetchy with me the last year or two concerning this little thing we got going on. I keep telling him you're good for it, buuuuut..."
"The operation is still going as planned!" Judas insisted. "I just need a little more time to work out some wrinkles."
"Might start with the ones on your face, Judy." Bres said flatly. "Look, I wanna believe you, but my colleagues have been counting up them bills and they ain't a pretty number. It's looking like a liquidation is in order."
Judas' face lost all color.
"No sir!" he pleaded, jumping to his feet. "Anything but that!"
"It ain't my call, Judy boy," Bres said with an apathetic wave, "but the bosses don't care much for failure, and I know three off the top of my head that have done more in a third of the time we've been giving you. A man that runs a casino should know the dangers of gambling better than that."
"But it's not my fault!" Judas insisted. "I don't even know what the L.A.N looks like! Then there's that silver haired brat with the magic armor!"
Bres suddenly went rigid. He actually took off his headphones, gingerly putting them to the side, and he leaned in again, looking to Judas directly.
"Silver eyes, you say?" he asked. "Tell me, did this schmuck have golden eyes, too?"
Judas paused, waxing confused.
"I mean, I didn't get that close to him, he was wearing glasses when I was able to speak with him, but perhaps so. He also had some sort of, in my son's words, magic armor. It does resemble some of the things you've told me your company produces. Could he maybe have taken the L.A.N? Or maybe he's stolen something from you?"
"Nobody steals from Omnitech, Judy." Bres said flatly. "Trust me, it don't happen, and those that try get a lot worse than a fine. I'll admit, this is pretty juicy info. My boss will certainly be interested."
Judas released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and he fell back in his chair.
"I'm...glad this information is pleasing to you." he gasped in relief. "So, how much time have I..."
"Oh, you're not getting any extra time, Judy." Bres said pointedly. "End of the month marks the end of your added five years. If anything, this info might've made things worse for you. Boss has this thing about silver heads. If'n I were a betting boy, and I do love me some slots, he's probably gonna come down to greet you personally."
The color left Judas' face, and he suddenly found the pits of his shirt growing very moist while bullets of sweat leaked down his face.
"Your...boss." he choked on his dry tongue. "As...as in..."
"Big boy Balor," Bres confirmed with a nod. "Yep, he's definitely gonna be coming your way when I drop this beat on him, and hoo boy! You better pray your lucky stars are overhead, especially if it ain't what I think it is. Balor is a busy man, like you'd think, and he hates wasting his time. Especially if it means leaving his cushy digs to come to a rathole like your city. A smidge too bright for his likes, you dig? But, even if he likes what he sees, I can't promise things'll be good for you. So, have some advice on the house. Finish the job, or get washed out. Literally."
He leaned back, and he replaced his headset.
"I'll let you get to it. Got me a stream in thirty, and the subs are already pouring in. Don't forget to give me five stars on the after call review. Buh-bye, Judy baby!"
With that, the call ended. Judas robotically complied when the questionnaire reviewed, but he was petrified as the shutters reopened and his door unlocked. The door opened with a crack, and the head of his secretary poked in.
"Sir, are you alright?" she asked meekly.
His expression was all the answer she needed to know he wasn't, and she stood straight when he got to his feet.
"Wendy, cancel my calls and meetings for the rest of the day." he said like a businessman. "Better yet, make it the rest of the week. Something important has come up, and it requires my full attention."
He didn't wait to get a confirmation as he rushed past her and made for the elevator. Soon, he was on his way down with a clear goal in mind and his cellphone in hand. He made the call, and he put the receiver to his ear.
"It's me. I need you to set up a meeting as soon as possible; the usual suspects. The game has changed, so I need to ensure the players know the rules. Tell them the Slumlord is making his first public appearance."