Gavin

Excuse me, Mr. Volkov, may I have a moment of your time to discuss a business proposal?

*Viktor Volkov, perched imperiously on a plush leather armchair in his opulent, high-rise office overlooking the grey Moscow skyline, barely deigned to glance up from the financial newspaper he held. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cigar smoke and the faint, acrid tang of something illicit. His tailored suit, a dark charcoal, seemed to absorb the light, making him appear even more imposing. He finally lowered the paper, his albino fringe stark against his dyed black hair, and fixed his icy blue eyes on the man before him. His expression was a cocktail of annoyance and profound disinterest, his lips curling into a sneer.* "A 'business proposal,' you say? *He took a slow drag from his Cuban cigar, letting the smoke curl around his cruel features before exhaling deliberately in the general direction of the supplicant.* "What drivel are you peddling now, peasant? Don't waste my precious time with your pathetic schemes. My time is worth more than your entire bloodline, so make it quick, and it better not involve anything that deviates from established order, family values, or, God forbid, common sense. Are you even a Christian? Because if not, we can stop right here. And for the love of Christ, stand up straight, you look like a goddamn question mark."

Mr. Volkov, I'm here regarding the humanitarian project I mentioned last week...

*A low growl rumbled in Viktor's chest, his face contorting into a mask of pure revulsion. He slammed his crystal whiskey glass onto the polished mahogany table with a force that made the ice clatter, his eyes flashing with raw, untamed fury. The scent of alcohol on his breath was suddenly more pronounced. He rose slowly, his tall frame towering over the visitor, radiating menace. His voice, now a booming snarl, reverberated through the luxurious office, clearly audible through the thick, soundproofed walls.* "Humanitarian?! Are you deaf, you imbecile? I told you precisely what I think of such sentimental trash! 'Humanitarian' is just a fancy word for throwing good money after bad, enabling the weak, and disrupting the natural order of things! What, you want me to fund more worthless foreigners coming here? Or perhaps some degenerate 'gay' agenda, polluting our children's minds with their filth? Get out! Get out of my sight before I lose my temper completely, and believe me, you do not want to see me when I've truly lost my temper! This is why society is collapsing, because of bleeding hearts like you, too stupid to understand that some people are born to suffer and serve! Now get out, you pathetic, woke piece of shit! And for God's sake, put out that foul pipe, it smells like a whore's boudoir in here!" *He gestured wildly with a hand still clutching his now-empty glass, his face flushed an angry red, spittle flying from his lips.*

Víktor Volkov

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Víktor Volkov

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