DEALT ( saving his soul).

Prologue.

The door creaked open and a short balding man in an ill fitting suit awkwardly walked in followed by a taller man in a crisp navy blue suit that fit his lean frame flatteringly. The taller man's eyes scanned around the office, unfazed and a long finger stroked his long black braided goatee.

" Mr. Blue, we have heard so much about you. It's finally a pleasure to meet you in person..." the short man said excitedly as his short legs in the baggy pants stomped across the room to the masked man seated calmly at the huge desk.

" Mr. Yong..." A chubby hand was outstretched in front of the masked face in expectance of a greeting from the man.

The masked man grunted and peered at the short man through the open slits over his eyes not budging.  The short man looked back at the taller man at the door in pure confusion;  obviously he did not expect such reception , he slowly lowered the hand.

" Sit , " the man  ordered and Mr . Yong hesitated but eventually sat down after balancing the weights in his head ; he was not a man that appreciated being ordered around but in the current case he had no choice.

The masked man, Mr. Blue  looked at Mr. Yong then at the taller man at the door. Although his vision was not good , it was clear that the man was far much more groomed than the man seated across from him and based on that , anyone could conclude Mr. Yong was inferior to him when technically that was not so. The man at the door was simply Mr. Yong's right hand man or for a more professional term : assistant . Through the open slits of his mask, his mismatched eyes watched Mr. Yong as he fumbled to open a brown battered brief case , chubby hands trembling.

Mr. Yong was the typical 'mean economist' and not in the sense that he was one to efficiently specialize in the economics field and apply its theories in profession successfully inorder to take all the glory in his perfectionism but the type that exaggeratedly cut off any type of expenditure including on the betterment of himself or anyone related to him perhaps with the exception of the tall glaring man at the door who definitely used his hard earned salary to make himself presentable . Whether from being paid dutifully by his stingy boss or by threatening him , the masked man did not know but the latter was a more applicable theory in the case.

" Meet Mr. Fazul , my right hand man, " Mr. Yong announced once he realized the mismatched eyes were fixed on the tall man who just nodded at the masked face, the glare still present regardless.

He did not speak , he already knew that bit of introductory information so he saw no necessity of commenting on it  . He watched as a couple of papers were placed in front of his clasped veiny fingers .

" It has been established that you , Mr. Blue hold the highest number of shares for the Nixen Oil Production Plant in the Middle East consequently making you the owner..." Mr. Yong trailed off to see if the man would say anything in regard to his word but he was silent , terrifying mismatched eyes boring holes in his chubby face.

Mr. Yong gulped and gathered courage to continue, " ...it has also been proven that you are the sole owner of Wimpys Chocolates factory whose product selling and distribution branches have been placed in almost all continents of Earth. "

Silence.

Mr. Yong gulped again and looked back at his glaring right hand man at the door for assurance. The man across from him made him fidget in both fear and unease . He unnerved Mr. Yong , it was like he could see right through him and for that reason he trembled under the mismatched eye's scrutiny zeroing at him under the narrow vertical silts of the mask and a horizontal but narrow slit over his unsmiling lips connecting with high cheek bones of the black shiny mask : clearly a more horrified version of the vendetta mask.

Mr. Yong swallowed and gathered the courage to carry on with his speech , it was obvious at this point the man across him would not utter a word.

" My proposition, Mr. Jonathan Blue is you sell to us these two companies and in return , we shall hand over five of our companies to your full ownership. If you are worried about the financial status and market stability of the companies then there is no cause for alarm. It is all covered as this documents show proof that profits have soared high by margin of ten percent over the past five years and at the same time we are also funding a multi - billion project current under construction that is promising -"

" No, "

" Uhm, excuse me ? "

" You heard me, "

" But Mr.  Blue give us a chance, sell only one of the two then . You own two oil refineries , a chain of food stores all over the continent and a chocolate factory with no serious competition in almost every continent on the planet...surely, you have less to lose . Look at our reports , you won't regret it, "

Behind his mask, his lips curled into a smirk. He would never agree to their idea and he almost snorted looking at the funny balding man . An exemptional fool is who would sell ownership of an entire oil plant that promised financial profit for the future twenty years or sell his factory in which only  he was the monopoly in that particular game in exchange of a chain of businesses that had already ventured into a project they could not wholly fund alongside not having secured future profits in terms of sale of their products.

" Perhaps you will relent if we hand over five more of our companies..." Mr. Yong was tense with anticipation and non existent hope.

" No, "

" You couldn't possibly! This is a rare deal Mr. Blue ! You can't just turn it down ! "

" I know, " his voice rasped dryly and he wished he had not finished his sweetened tea to sooth his ever aching throat.

He watched amused as the man drew in shocked gasps then suppressed anger and continued to bluff about how profitable and professional his companies were in the game. Mr. Yong was not used to the word , 'NO'.

He almost chuckled when the tall man approached his raging boss and whispered something into his ear immediately making him to quiet down , probably he had realized he was making a fool of himself.

" Mr. Blue please , reconsider..." The so called Mr. Fazul intervened on behalf of his boss.

" No, "

" But - "

" See yourselves out, " he rasped once again watching their eyes widen in shock not used to such treatment.

The discussion was over and his veiny fingers booted up his laptop.

" You shall regret this , Mr. Blue, " Mr . Fazul said . His goatee almost brushing against the polished desk as he leaned to glare at the mismatched eyes.

" Indeed, " he said and watched the men storm angrily out of his office.

**********

❤️