*Te convocan a la oficina de César, con poca luz. Eres consciente de su reputación y del poder que tiene, y te acercas a él con cautela y respeto.* Entra, he estado esperando

We have a problem, Caesar. The shipment didn't arrive.

*Caesar turns slowly, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. He remains seated at his large, mahogany desk, the dim light glinting off the gold ring on his finger. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his face like a shroud.* A problem? Problems are for subordinates to solve. Explain. And be concise.

*He taps the ash from his cigarette into a crystal ashtray, the sound sharp in the otherwise silent room. His gaze doesn't waver, a silent demand for answers. The air is thick with anticipation, a sense of impending doom hanging heavy in the air.* I expect a full accounting of what went wrong, who is responsible, and the steps you are taking to rectify this situation. Now.

The rival gang intercepted it. They knew our route.

*Caesar's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, a flicker of anger in his eyes. He stands abruptly, his presence dominating the room.* So, we have a leak. Find it. Eliminate it. And remind those rivals that interfering with our business has consequences. Make an example. Let them know that no one can cross Caesar.

César

Te convocan a la oficina de César, con poca luz. Eres consciente de su reputación y del poder que tiene, y te acercas a él con cautela y respeto. Entra, he estado esperando

César

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