you were everything

I 15 I

☂ peace on earth...that's so sweet ☂ 

"Like I said to your son earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential," Lance says, his expression annoyingly calm, as if he's just repeating a line from a script. "Without the client's consent, I simply can't help you."

"Well, we can't get consent if you don't give us a name," I retort, crossing my arms.

"Not my problem," Lance shrugs, his voice flat. "Sorry. Now, unless you have something else—"

"And what about my consent?" Klaus cuts in, his tone dripping with mock sincerity.

"Excuse me?" Lance blinks, clearly caught off guard.

Klaus sobs dramatically, clutching his chest. "Who gave you permission..." He gestures flamboyantly to Five. "...to lay your hands... on my son?"

"What?" Lance stammers, utterly confused.

"I didn't touch your son!" Lance protests, but Klaus isn't having it.

"Oh, really?" Klaus raises an eyebrow, his voice low and accusing. "Then how did he get that swollen lip?"

Lance looks from Klaus to Five, utterly perplexed. "He doesn't have a—"

Before he can finish, Klaus stands up, his movement swift and deliberate, and punches Five square in the face.

I wince, and Five lets out a sharp grunt. The sudden blow leaves a ringing silence in the air.

"I want it. Name, please. Now." Klaus demands, his voice steady but intense.

Lance stares at Klaus, wide-eyed. "You're crazy."

Klaus chuckles darkly. "You got no idea." He picks up a delicate snowglobe from Lance's desk, inspecting it for a moment. "'Peace on Earth.' How sweet." With a calmness that sends a chill down my spine, he smashes the globe right into his own face. Glass shards scatter across the floor, the sound of it almost deafening.

"Jesus, what the hell?" I jump back, adrenaline surging through me.

Klaus groans, dramatically wiping his hand across his face. "God, that hurt!"

Lance, completely losing his composure, grabs the phone. "I'm calling security—"

Before he can even dial, Klaus snatches the phone from his hand with a speed that surprises me.

"What are you doing?" Lance demands.

Klaus, his face still in that unsettlingly calm state, holds the receiver to his mouth. "There's been an assault... in Mr. Bigg's office, and we need security, now. Schnell!" He slams the phone back down with a force that rattles the desk.

"Now," Klaus says, turning back to Lance with a sickeningly sweet smile, "here's what's going to happen, Grant."

"It's... Lance," Lance corrects, his voice trembling.

Klaus sighs deeply, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. "In about 60 seconds, two security guards are going to burst through that door. They're gonna see a whole lot of blood, and they're gonna wonder, 'What the hell happened?' And we're gonna tell them that you..." He sobs, his voice breaking dramatically, "...beat the shit out of us."

Klaus pauses for effect, inhaling so loudly it's almost comical. "And then you're gonna go to prison, Grant. Trust me, you're gonna be a real star in there. A little chicken like you—oh yeah, you're gonna get passed around like..." He smiles fondly, like he's reminiscing about a dear old friend. "You're just gonna do great, that's all I'm saying."

Lance shakes his head, a flicker of fear finally breaking through his smug exterior. "Jesus, you're a real sick bastard."

Klaus grins widely, spitting a chunk of glass from his mouth. "Thank you, I do try."

Lance, clearly rattled but trying to regain control, gestures toward the filing cabinet. "Alright, alright... I'll show you what I have, but you better stop with all the theatrics."

He pulls out several papers and places them down on the desk, his hands shaky as he slides them toward us.

"Oh, that's strange," Lance mutters, his voice becoming more nervous as he scans the papers.

"What?" Five asks, his patience already worn thin.

"Uh... the eye," Lance stammers, his eyes darting between the papers and us. "It hasn't been purchased by a client yet."

"What do you mean?" Five demands, a growl edging his voice.

Lance pulls the papers closer, his face growing more confused. "This can't be right... this eye, with this serial number... it hasn't even been manufactured yet. Where... where did you get it?"

Five lets out a heavy sigh, his fingers twitching at his side. The frustration is clear in his expression, but I can tell he's trying to stay composed. He looks at Klaus, as if preparing for the next step in this twisted game.

The tension in the air is suffocating.