"Men, it's been two days and our payments haven't reflected. Is it me or is the big man getting too big to notice our efforts? we've got a new job in three days but we've not been paid for the first one."
All eyes are on Maverick as he speak, all listening with great interest as he pitches his defiance plan.
"Reflected you say," Sam interjects, "From history books I've read of salt wages, but I've never heard of mirror wages"
"I do not recall anyone asking for your opinion boy, that mouth of yours had better have an autoswitch or I'll have to manually turn it off using my knife" Maverick gives Sam a dirty look.
"Maverick, are you trying to sound tough?" a voice asks from behind him. The whole room bursts with laughter. He abruptly turns in the direction it came from but fails to identify the source.
"Right, as I was saying. I have full confidence in my plan, but, its gonna need one thing from all of us, patience."
"Says the man who stands next to the microwave rapidly tapping his foot while the food warms up" the voice shouts again, causing yet another burst of laughter from the room.
Maverick trembles with anger as he searches for the source of the voice among the mini crowd of men.
***************
"Hey dad" Sam casually greets his father. "Hey sonny" Morgan greets his son back with a warm smile, which quickly turns into a scowl as he sends Wiley a deathly glare.
" Where's my wife ?" he asks in a cold tone.
"I thought you'd never ask" Wiley replies with a sinister smile.
"Well I thought he was gonna ask, I mean, its the obvious question" Maverick intervenes.
"I don't remember asking for your input Maverick" Wiley snaps.
"Its basically output since its coming out of his mouth" Sam decides to weigh in on the conversation, which adds that tiny drop of gasoline needed to further fuel Wiley's inner fire. With clenched fists, a monstrous look upon his face, he slowly moves towards Sam, who watches him wide-eyed with horror. "Stop!" Morgan pleads, " Don't hurt him, its me you wanted Wiley and you've got me, now you're gonna let my son go and then you can do with me as you please, also I think you were about to unveil my wife."
"Unveil is a rather big word Mr Blake, I believe unearth is the more likely term. Miller, raise the bird cage." With that, a human-sized bird cage emerges from the room floor. In it is a hopeless, distraught Nancy Blake. A defeated expression upon her face. Her whole demeanour tells a tale of suffering and torture. However, the wounds she obtained from the "accident" seem to have been well looked after, judging by the fresh clean bandages on her left calf and right shoulder. Her bloodshot eyes are terrifyingly fixed on Wiley, her mouth trembles with rage.
"Oh my god Honey are you ok? I swear if this piece of....."
"Hush! Morgan, hush! Just.......hush!" Wiley abruptly cuts him off. " You sound pathetic, you look pathetic. What a couple you are Morgan, what a fine couple you are. Both of you look like hobos Morgan, worn out beat up hobos. Mr and Mrs hobo, Hobbeo and Hobliet. No, better yet, Prince Hobo and Hoborella. "
"No you hush Wiley, you and Miss Chunky over there don't look too compatible either. We're not here to compare our love life.....loves..lives, now let's get down to business."
"As you wish. Now where do I start, oh right, how about the time where you guys decided to promote Harvey instead of me, or the time you grew tired of my services and decided I should head out the door. Or better yet, the time where me and my family had to go all over the country paying long visits to places I'd rather not talk about?"
"Wiley you've got the wrong guy, I wasn't in charge of such decisions, my position was field agent, nothing above that. Wait, is that what...."
"Oh I've got just the right guy, I've got the golden boy, the chief's little puppet, the right hand boy. I'm going to get my revenge on all the members who played a part in my downfall, I'm going to screw em' over, I'm going to peel the skin off their flesh and use it to make little handbags. I'm going to serve smoothies on their heads while sitting under sunny skies in the Bahamas. I'm gonna start with you, then Martel, then Howlett, then Washington, then Parker and then that kingpin Murphy."
Morgan eyes the man before him with great concentration, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. Having worked with him, he knows what he is capable of, he knows what the intense training programme does to a man's mind. He also knows the threat posed by a man who's got nothing to lose.
"Wiley you left us no choice, a virus had infected the team and it was spreading like a wild fire. You happened to be at the unfortunate position of being the source of it and you had to be removed, it had to be cured."
Wiley's eyes seem to have amplified in magnitude as his gaze remains fixed on Morgan. His trembling hands, as if moving by their own accord, reach for his pistol, he manages to stop them midway as he pages through his mind, searching for the slowest and most painful manner in which he might end his old colleague's life.
After a moment, he snaps his finger in a way a brilliant scientist would upon being struck by a bright idea. A maniacal grin spreads across his face, his eyes sparkle like those of a kindergarten child receiving candy. He rubs his hands in exaggerated excitement.
" My word! Blake, I've just had the brightest idea fly up into my brilliant mind. Here's how things are gonna pan out, first you watch all your friends and former colleagues die slow painful deaths, and then you watch the agency fall into ruin, and then...and then..you die, Blake...you just...die! Oh isn't it brilliant? Isn't it just...wonderful?! Just picture it Morgan, all who ever screwed me...dead! What beautiful scenery that would be Morgan my dear lad."
Morgan fails to identify the role to be played by his family in all this. But just before he asks, Wiley clarifies the situation.
"If you're wondering why your family is here Morgan, let me throw some light upon the matter, they are here to motivate you Morgan, as some form of catalyst, one squeal out of your son and you'll be doing exactly as I'll tell you. The second reason is, they're your audience, they're here to watch as you perform your act of agony, as you cry like.......like a baby with herpes Morgan, have you seen one o' those Morgan? Have you...."
"Oh just cut to the chase Wiley, do whatever it is you're rambling on about and stop wasting my time."
Sam frowns and directs his eyes towards the ceiling, as if deep in thought, he then looks at the ropes bounding him to the cold metallic chair, searching but failing to find a way out of them.
"Untie me please" Sam begs but receives no answer. He seems to have become invisible as the two stare at each other with what can only be described as pure hatred.
"Oh Nancy, " Claire Martins says with a malicious tone, casting her eyes towards an agitated Nancy Blake, who looks as though she could literally chew their heads off if untied.
"What?" Nancy snaps.
"What if I told you that Morgan and I had us a good time once in the office, during the period in which you were having a....'rough patch' in your relationship. I like to call the time we had a momentary.....smooth patch in My and Morgan's relationship."
"Time is never good, it always works against you, therefore it is impossible to have a 'good time' "
Sam pipes in before his mother can speak. He then does a slight yet restricted bow, feeling satisfied with his words and feeling like an important philosopher.
" I do tend to be philosophical at times, don't I mother?" Sam looks at his mother with a proud smile," You raised my quite well, or rather, you are raising me quite well, since I'm not a fully fledged adult yet. I'm getting Shakespearish vibes sitting on this chair, is anybody else perhaps getting such vibes? I guess not."
"Morgan, it's not true right?"
"Honey, not now okay,please"
"What do you mean not now Morgan! I asked you a simple question, which requires a simple answer."
"Enough!" Wiley shouts above the whole room, " There's no need for the bickering, you will both die soon anyways. He then looks at Sam and then looks back at his father. Then, two tall dark men enter the room with what appears to be a gigantic TV screen, placed on a moving stand, they then place it so that it is in front of Morgan.
"The deaths of your old colleagues will be broadcasted to you on the screen in front of you, starting tonight. Do enjoy the show Morgan, and don't change the channel."
