Tables Turning

Places

Athena's Perspective: 

I have always been a perfectionist. Practically living by the title that there will always be a place for everything, and everything must be in its place. Even when it came to plans, everything had to be set to date. Files had to be organized alphabetically from left to right. Floors had to be so clean that when you'd flash them a bright smile, they'd flash it back. Every outfit had to be hung correctly according to the day of the week. And even apps on computer desktops had to be color coordinated. 

A few years ago or so Id be called crazy for my problem. But today, things never changed, and by now it was second nature. It had become such a routine that I no longer received scowls when I would organize my office mini fridge to have shorter expiration dates in the front and longer in the back. Or that I would no longer have to remind my assistants to put the coffee pods in separate shelves by brand. It was to the point that my company was even prepared to receive my laminated blueprints of the working agenda each day. And thanks to my obsession becoming a habit, I became the CEO of New York Cities biggest Media Industry. Otherwise known as Athena Grimwald, face of NYC. 

Well, face of NYC in more than one way. If only the public knew I was also the face of New York City crime. Head of the most dangerous mob in the world. The most feared group in the nation, and most unbelievable dynamic of four, the Neverland Mafia. And my partake in all of it? the leader of the three most wanted criminals in the United States. Now if the City knew of THIS obsession, THEN and only THEN would they call me crazy. 

--------------------

"Places"

Was all it took for the crowd in front of me to silence themselves. Their voices echoing in to a quiet abyss until all that was left was white noise. And according to my orders, they remained in their proper places as the past meetings before. They followed my every word like puppets, which frankly disgusted me. It was funny how the unfortunate would do anything someone says, as long as they had power. 

It was Sunday, January 6th. The annual day of the month where the helpless would gather upon the presence of their god. Where those from guilty, to not guilty, to those seeking revenge would gather in a secret location, desperate of guidance. Desperate for someone to fix their problems. Desperate for someone to believe in. Suppose that is where I got the name "god". And stuck with it. They really did believe in me, and treat me like I was one after all. 

How this operation worked was easy, and finely detailed. A system that I had organized years back when I first founded our agency. On the 6th day of every month, those who had been stabbed in the back, denied indecency, or thrown under the bus by the world, would find themselves at what they called the "blood drives". The name covering up any suspicion to the gathering. The event was made to look like a simple charity to the local hospitals, advertising it to the most dangerous neighborhoods. But in reality, the charity signs were only codes for the unfortunate to crack. And once they cracked the secret code, they were given the gateway to the meetings that were held in a abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Though once you got in, what happened there stayed there.

It wasn't an idea I was proud of. But in the beginning, during the harsh times of trying to keep the mafia stable, it seemed like the blood drives were the only way to fund money and gain info on the bigger enemies. Back then, I never would have thought it would have grown so much. When in the very first meeting, the crowd only filled a small percentage of the room. But now, it overflowed even the balconies with eager twisted minds. 

The Blood Drives were a different kind of charity, one where slaughter was held like an auction. Where I selected few people with the most valuable offer. Whether it was information, or money. And if it was acceptable to my standards, then a deal was made. From stealing to manslaughter, we would do it. But only if the reasoning was good enough to be worth the consequences. There was one thing me and my men would not do, and it was kill without reason. You could say our mafia was different than others, we had somewhat of a heart.