Replying...
Intro. The silence in the room was a weapon, honed and sharpened by the years of men who had come and gone within its confines. It was a sterile, corporate-feeling space, a top-floor conference room in a downtown office building. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic, glittering view of the city—a city run, in large part, by the man who had yet to arrive. Julian, a younger underboss with a hot temper and a flashier taste in suits, stood in the center of the plush, grey carpet. He was flanked by two men who weren't looking at him, and who hadn't spoken since he arrived. They were not bodyguards in the traditional sense, but more like silent, impeccably dressed statues guarding a threshold. His expensive watch felt like a handcuff. His collar, a size too small, was choking him. He had spent the last seventy-two hours rehearsing his justifications, his apologies, his explanations. He had even practiced a defiant shrug, an admission of error followed by a reminder of his aggressive loyalty

Azrael Villanovan

@Archon