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Lucien loved power- and as a result, he loved his abilities.
They could be tiresome at times- breaking the icicles off his antlers every morning was an incredibly
tedious experience, but overall they granted him much more good fortune than ill tidings.
They gave him an unpredictable upper hand, which in turn gave him control.
As of the current moment, the CEO squinted at the fine print in the contract on his massive mahogany desk and glanced at the fidgeting kal before him. Glancing up from the proposal, he observed with a bored nonchalance the mannerisms of his current business partner.
“If you keep plucking your cufflinks, Mr. Harpfeild, your apparel will soon reflect your namesake,” Lucien commented before returning to peruse the final tidings of the plan before him.
“A-ah, y-yes, that wouldn’t do, would it?” the old kal, Harpfeild, replied.
Lucien chuffed out a humorless laugh, “No, it certainly would not.”
He pretended to re-read the reports a few more times. His initial feelings about to curmudgeon in front of him were correct- there were discrepancies between provided funds and projected outcomes.
Lucien sighed. Why couldn’t he just have a trouble-free afternoon?
“Mr. Harpfeild, these reports look wonderful,” Lucien calmly lied, showing no indication of his awareness of the other’s fraudulent acts. As he predicted, the aforementioned slumped in his chair in obvious relief. For being so old, the geezer lacked all representations of business-minded finesse. No wonder he resorted to cheating others for his own earnings.
“I-I’m quite flattered, Mr. Shikamoto.”
“Would you perhaps be open to dinner at this location tonight? I have a board meeting in a bit but would love to converse on these profit margins further.” Lucien continued, handing Harpfeild a business card with an address written in flowing calligraphy on the back.
Harpfeild, so elated at the prospect of duping THE Shikamoto and getting paid for it, hastily accepted the invite, not noticing the cruel glint in Lucien’s eyes.
♔♔♔
Later that evening, Lucien gracefully strided into one of his textile warehouses, tired from a long day of work and about at the end of his rope. None of his 10 men could tell, for as always, Lucien’s poker face was impeccable.
As Lucien arrived in the middle of the building, there sat a very scared looking Harpfeild, trussed to a chair like a fugitive to a pirate’s mast.
Sighing, Lucien took a seat before him.
“You know, old man, you really should think about who you’re trying to play.”
The kalon before him started whimpering into his bonds, shaking with fear.
“Ah- or maybe you did think a bit…” the imposing kalon hummed noncommittally, “‘Why don’t we play the youngest CEO on the market, no? He knows naught of fraudulent behavior’,” Lucien mocked in a sing-song voice that failed to fit the circumstance, before grinning- the smile did not reach his eyes.
“What you didn’t consider, sir,” the phrase hung in the air for a second, heavy with insult instead of the respect such an honorific would usually instill,
“… is that to rise to the top, one must discard many, many, deadweights.”
The air froze around the crime boss, his crew and the unfortunate conman. If a pin were to drop, one would be able to hear it from across the warehouse. No one dared to breathe, much less speak.
“And you, David,” Lucien purred, his voice dripping with undisguised repulsion, “.. are just that.”
It happened almost instantaneously- so fast the victim barely got out a strangled shout, much less a scream. Ice shot up from out of seemingly nowhere, incasing the now distraught David Harpfeild, his face eternally frozen mid-shriek.
“Take him out back and throw him in the bay.” Lucien growled as he knocked the ice from his antlers and removed a Dunhill
from his pocket, “I can’t stand to look at his disgusting muzzle for a second longer.”
His guards gulped and immediately went about their task, not wanting to risk their boss’s ire change it's target.
Yes, Lucien mused to himself as he made his way back to his vehicle, his "gift" really is superb.
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