Chapter 2: Turn 1 (Call Me)

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    "Good afternoon." The voice of Ivory trickled over a phone one day.

    "Ah, yes. Hello, is this the ODA?" A British man's voice responded on the other line. "What can I do you for?"

    "Yes, this is Junior Detective Ivory of the Ontario Detective Agency. Hm, how witty of you to know our number. I'm looking to speak with a staff member of Hinge Corporate. Is now a good time?" 

    "Mhm, you're speaking with second-in-command council chairman of the board, Correspondent Ambiance. Would you like to continue talking over the phone, or would you like to come in for a discussion? We're free today from three to nine." 

     "Hm, an in-person meeting sounds good. I'll be over there today at four-o'clock sharp. Is this good with the other chairmen?" Ivory's young, yet confident, voice was piercing. 

     "Yes. Four-o'clock? Right well, then!" 

     With that, a mysteriously tall, long-haired man put his phone down over a large desk which was stationed in a big room... that had burgundy rugs.

     "What's all the noise about, Ambiance?" Another voice came from the room, banging a desk in the process. "Youch!" 

     "I assume, to the best of my skills... people are starting to wonder. They're starting to wonder about this strange unnamed organization that's been theorized to use the cellars of our building." The man known as Ambiance sighed. "It's a shame that those theories... would be correct." 

     The clumsy voice was revealed to be an old man with a gray mustache and peanut-colored skin. "People forget that we're a stinking corporation! Gotta make money where money goes. If illegalizing something brings in the money even more... once it returns, and whilst on desperate black-market pricing... then who's to say we can't make deals with... private investors? Nobody knows the complicated parts to economics and money, do they? They all say the silly shit like, 'make sure to pay off your debt quickly'. Ha! That kind of talk belongs in the middle class, where it came from." 

     "Quite." Ambiance smiled, oily black hair falling comfortingly over his oddly pink irises. 

     "This unnamed organization that we've made a deal with- You ever think that the leader of it sounds like -- a lot like -- the CEO of our company? They do share very similar voices."

     "Now that's just a ridiculous conspiracy. Fitzbartholomew McCoy is a proud lover of progressing the future of cars. There's just no way- Hell, even his handle -- or company nickname -- screams about how much he likes cars. 'Inquisitor', he said, was going to be the name of a new model by the end of next year."

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