The man across from her was a weaselly little thing, all excuses and tentative smiles and weakness rolling off him like a stench. The barely tinted smoke curled out of her nose as she snorted at his words, limp and ineffectual. She knew why they sent him, because they didn't fully expect he would come back. As much as they still ostensibly lived in a civilized society, the days of agents of the state breaking down doors and cuffing her for such an inconsequential death were over.

There was a second reason they sent him, of course. It was highlighted in the way that his sweat glistened on his forehead in fear, in the way that he subtly angled his body in an attempt to escape should the deal turn sour. They wanted her to kill him. It would be the perfect justification to show her exactly how hostile their hostile takeover could get. Feds wouldn't knock down her door, but the thugs who did would be jackbooted all the same. Wearing the logo of the Siha conglomerate or a government seal, what difference would it make? Her run would be over either way. Sending the weakest, most pathetic courier they could was a power play, an insult. They had spat in her face.

She bit down on her cigar in anger, smoke rolling out of her mouth and nose giving her the visage of a bellowing dragon. The man in front of her blanched, eyes widening. She could tell he wanted to run, he was commanding his body to run, but he was locked in place. She'd seen the look before -- the look of prey. She stood and slammed her hands down on the table, the handle of her custom-made pistol setting mere inches from her grasp. "You can tell Aziz and his gaggle of cocksuckers that they can have this fucking husk."

It took him a few moments to process her words, and that only infuriated her more. A fellow predator would have realized they already won, would have already calculated the moves, would have known they had her in a corner and would have nothing to fear from the infamous Drogenboss.

She stalked around the table, deftly grasping her pistol from its place as she moved. Grabbing the maggot from his chair, she forced him up by his collar. "You'll tell them that not only can they have this piece of shit for their pitifully low price, but that I've left you alive as punishment for their offer. I'm sure that you will drive them to madness from your mere presence before they can even set foot in one of my Fabriken." His eyes, wide and panicked, tried to look anywhere but directly at her as she spoke. Without expending much effort, she pivoted and slammed the weasel into the wall. She brought her face as close to the insect's as possible without vomiting and growled, "You will meet my eyes when I speak to you."

Fear flowed off of him in waves, and she couldn't bear to look at him any longer. She dropped the man on the ground and took pleasure from the groan of pain as he smacked against the hard floor. Turning from the sad sack of a man, she opened a drawer and began rummaging through it. "You have until I can cut my cigar before I splatter your brains on the wall and invoice Aziz for the trouble," she said coolly. The cry of fear he made before scrambling to his feet warmed her heart ever-so-slightly before she breathed in deeply from her newly revived cigar. It wasn't tobacco, of course, it was an in-house product. The smoke swirled into her lungs and invigorated her beyond anything natural.

The formulation was ingenious, and it was only fitting that it came from the prodigal Drogenboss at the head of the operation. That was why they needed her company, because the empty suits that ran the corps hadn't had a novel idea since Infernum had chains. She looked back down at the document on the desk and idly brushed aside the ash that had fallen on its vile ink.

Her business, her child, her perfectly oiled machine: all gone in a matter of moments. It wasn't public, they couldn't technically acquire it without her assent, but it wouldn't matter. Siha's garish logo would be plastered on her Fabriken whether she wanted it or not. The only choice she had was to take their money and leave quietly or refuse and end up bound and thrown off the pier wearing concrete shoes.

She spun her pistol idly as she thought, puffing methodically and staring out the window. The muggy gray skies matched her mood perfectly. Turbulent clouds clashed in the sky, battling over disagreements unknown to mankind. The lightning that arced through them served as a reminder of their power, hidden for so long only to be unleashed in a cataclysmic strike. She took the cigar out of her mouth and pressed it roughly against the merger agreement. The flames snuffed themselves against the pages, singing it and spreading the deep reddish-purple ash across it. They already had her assent to go through with the deal, her signature meant nothing.

In a fluid motion, she grabbed her jacket from where it hung next to the door and shrugged it on. The familiar leather around her body calmed her slightly, made her feel powerful. She struggled with her sentimental affection for the jacket, acknowledging that it was nonsensical while also feeling it was the only thing that really understood her. Fishing her phone out from one of the pockets, she tapped on a name and let it ring for a few moments before raising it to her ear.

"Ms. Drach?" the voice on the other end softly inquired, its tone even-keeled and calming.

"Emilia. My place. Fifteen minutes," she said, her voice deadly serious. She was certain that her frustration from the particularly shit day she was having leaked through to her tone; she was never able to hide anything from her exceedingly sharp assistant. Some days she resented that Alexa could so easily read her, but on days like this, it was bliss to have someone who understood her.

"Of course, Ms. Drach. Is that all you'd have of me?" Alexa asked, slight annoyance seeping into her tone. She knew that Alexa didn't exactly approve of her connection to Emilia, but she simply couldn't find it within herself to care. Everyone has their demons, or so she would caustically reply whenever Alexa made any mention of it.

"No. I need a plane to New York and a helicopter there to pick me up as soon as I arrive. The moment I'm done with Emilia I'll be leaving." She finally opened the last door to the outside, the rancid air of the industrial district forcing its way into her lungs as she held back a retch. Her driver simply nodded to her and opened the door, allowing her to slide into the nondescript car.

"So, two hours then?" Alexa responded, her tone all hidden daggers. She didn't like that attitude at all. Under normal circumstances, she would have retaliated harshly to someone presuming to cast judgment on her, but she simply didn't have the time to spar with her assistant.

"Cut the shit," she responded with a voice icy enough to hopefully cause frostbite. She took the phone from her ear and ended the call. After returning the phone to her pocket, she withdrew another cigar. She stopped to consider it for a moment, a million reasons not to light it running through her mind. She turned her gaze outside, the tinted windows only making the sky darker as it rumbled menacingly. She mumbled an expletive and took out her lighter, an exquisite construction with swirling designs evocative of her actual product. It was a gift, actually, and a treasured one at that. Her expression soured further, and as she raised the cigar to her lips and lit it, she wondered if perhaps Alexa's unspoken condemnation held more truth than she gave it credit for.

It wasn't more than twenty minutes before her driver pulled up to her palatial estate, its design as modern and sleek as it was expensive, and it was. Truly, it was more of a symbol of her power than an indulgence on her part. The reason for its existence is what it projected to others, not what value it has to her. She tended to prefer the bleak, spartan Fabriken to her home anyway.

The doors to her home burst open, thrown open with all the rage that had built up as her thoughts tumbled about in her mind. She heard movement from further within the complex, likely Emilia jumping at the sudden sound. As she kicked the doors shut behind her, Emilia appeared within the hallway leading to the bedroom, dressed in only a simple burgundy nightgown.

"Viktoria, I was hoping you would ca-" Emilia began only to be cut off by Viktoria roughly grabbing the back of her neck and forcing her into a kiss. She broke from it only to stare the smaller girl in the eyes and growl out, "Now is not the time for talk. Kneel."

Today has been a royally fucked day, Viktoria thought, but tonight? Tonight will just have to make up for it.