Gage sits at the head of a dark wood table in a cold, dimly lit boardroom. As always, he is dressed very expertly, this night in a power suit that suggests he won't be leaving without acquiring what he wants. A dossier lay on the table in front of Gage. Standing in the doorway is Dembe, the butt of a pistol exposed from the open jacket. Mr. Swanson, CEO of Intertrope, sits 2 chairs down from Gage, on the side of the table facing Dembe. He is trying, in vain, to maintain composure, but the salty smell of sweat beading at his forehead is something that can't be hidden from the Lord; the nervous glances between the dossier and the butt of the pistol are things that couldn't be hidden from a corporate shark.

"Mr. Swanson," Gage states, cutting through the silence of the unforgiving room like red hot knife through butter, "It appears I have you at a disadvantage. You see, I met with..." Gage trails off and looks to Dembe, a predatorial smile crossing his face, "Cherry, was it?"

"Cherie," He corrects flatly, never removing his eyes from Mr. Swanson.

"Ah, yes, Cherie. I can see why you'd be attracted to the young woman. Only barely out of her teenage years, it seems. And already on to the oldest of professions."
Gage opens the dossier and slides 3 unfavorable photos of a working girl getting into his car, and 2 very incriminating photos behind them. Several more documents are in the folder, and that fact is not lost on the elderly man in the hot seat. Mr. Swanson looks through them, each picture sucking even more air out of him than the one before. While he is thumbing through the photos, Gage reaches inside his jacket pocket, which startles the man, and pulls out three vials; 1 full of a crimson red fluid, the other two empty with an equal stain on the inside of the glass.

"Before we came into this room, my man here employed a very unique skill set, and may have accidently spilled the contents of the first two of these vials, somewhere in your car. Not enough to be worrisome for you, at the moment, but should say, a Crime Scene Tech comb through that vehicle in the future, especially with the recent find of Cherie's body, it would become most unfortunate for you."

The color leaves Mr. Swanson's face. "What do you want," he barks, though the fear in his voice betrays the tone he tried to take.

"What do I want? Well, that's easy. First," Gage holds up his index finger, "you'll never touch another woman again. Ever. Not your wife, not your secretary, no more working girls. You've lost the privilege to employ the meat stick between your legs as anything but a piss pump. That was Cherie's request - I suggested she drain your bank account, but she had more noble aspirations. She also said you should bathe more often. Should you find yourself needing intimacy, I recommend you submit yourself to any man who shares your perversion. It ought to numb your drive. Secondly," Gage extends the thumb, "I admire your stock portfolio. It is a high risk, high reward selection of companies. What I want, is to meet you halfway - I will allow you to maintain ownership of your stocks, and manage those risks as you please. In exchange, you will sign the documents in this dossier of mine that grant us co-ownership of a shell company in Germany. The positive dividends from your portfolio, you will move into our company together. Any losses, you will get to keep... along with these photos here, as a gentle reminder of why this arrangement is so very fair. Lastly," Gage extends the middle finger now, totalling three digits in the air, "You will sign to me the controlling share of Intertrope. Being that these photos here are why you are agreeing to the sharing of your portfolio, you'll find your motivation for sharing your company in the dossier."

Gage slides the dossier and a pen in front of Mr. Swanson, who thumbs through it. With each flip of the page, he becomes more and more exacerbated, until he slams his hands on the table and stands to yell, only to be cut off by Gage, who copies his actions but with more authority. At the same time, Dembe pulls the pistol and levels it at Mr. Swanson. Gage locks eyes with him - "SIT DOWN!" and simultaneously holds up a hand to Dembe, who returns the pistol to inside his jacket. Mr. Swanson's heart is racing, and immediately returns to his seat, surprised by his own action.

Mr. Swanson looks to Dembe and says, "If you ever touch her, I swear..."

"No, Mr. Swanson, we, unlike you, aren't in the business of stealing innocence. We only picked her up under the guise of one of your valets, in addition to copying your brother's emergency contact information you have on file for her, onto a fake ID with my man's face on it. We just wanted you to know that, should we choose, there is no one close to you that we ourselves can't get to. Now, should you attempt to get creative with the spirit of what you are to do, next time we pick her up, she might not end up dropped off at home." Gage looks at the additional photos, and adds, "Your girl, she looks remarkably like Cherie. I wonder what would happen if she were to follow in her footsteps? Think she'd be successful? Now," Gage locks eyes again, "SIGN."

Mr. Swanson blankly picks up the pen, and thumbs through all of the files, and signs away all of his holdings, a single tear swelling in his eye.