Season 3 chapter 89
The Bloody Interrogation
(Present Day - The 86th Floor Terrace)
The biting wind of Seistain whipped across the terrace as Filoska finished her story. She crossed her arms, looking directly at the two billionaires.
"That is exactly why I showed up at your apartment and thanked you the very next day," Filoska stated, her voice sharp and steady. "Because you didn't just insult my boss. You saved my life when he threw me away. And now, you finally have the reason."
Kniya stared at her, genuinely surprised that she had managed to piece it all together. He popped a fresh piece of mint gum into his mouth, leaning back against the glass railing.
"Okay, wait a minute," Kniya challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Let's just say, hypothetically, we did blow their heads off. How did you even know those three guys were sent by Leon to kill you? They could have just been random palace guards."
Filoska offered a cold, ruthless smirk.
"I knew," Filoska replied smoothly, "because whoever shot them—which was obviously you two—wasn't entirely thorough. One of the guards was still breathing when you walked away."
Malesh narrowed his dark eyes, intrigued. "And what did you do with the survivor?"
"I dragged him inside my room," Filoska answered, completely deadpan. "I pressed my heel into his gunshot wound and I asked him exactly who sent him. He broke immediately. He told me Leon gave the order to execute me."
Kniya's jaw dropped. A massive, highly impressed grin spread across his face. "Damn. And what did you do after he told you?"
"I killed him," Filoska stated bluntly.
Kniya let out a loud, echoing laugh, clapping his hands together. "Bro! That is brutal! I have to say, Filoska, you are highly competent. You are super smart!"
Malesh gave a slow, respectful nod. He didn't use any robotic jargon. He was simply, genuinely impressed by her ruthlessness. "That was a highly pragmatic decision. Leaving him alive would have compromised your extraction."
Salesh, who had been listening to the entire story in absolute, terrified silence, took a slow step backward away from his three coworkers.
"You guys are insane," Salesh whispered, completely horrified by the casual discussion of murder. "Kniya, Malesh, Filoska... you guys have been complete psychopaths from the very start. I am the only normal person in this entire company!"
Filoska ignored Salesh's panic and looked directly at Malesh.
"You guys saved me in my past," Filoska concluded softly, the hard edge of her corporate persona softening just a bit. "And when I showed up at your door the next morning, you didn't even mention the gunshots. You just gave me a job. Did you really think I wouldn't be able to figure it out? I knew from the start."
The Wardrobe Liability
The biting wind of Seistain whipped across the 86th-floor terrace, but the tension had finally broken.
Kniya stared at Filoska's retreating figure, letting out a loud, highly amused laugh. He turned back to his best friend, clapping him heavily on the shoulder.
"Okay, Malesh, let this be a massive lesson for us," Kniya chuckled, pointing a finger at Malesh's chest. "Next time we go on a highly classified, black-ops assassination mission in the middle of the night, you should probably not wear your signature dragon-themed tie. It is a severe stealth liability."
Malesh looked down at his tie, adjusting the silk knot with a slow, completely deadpan nod. "Yeah. You are entirely right about this thing. I will wear standard black next time."
They both let out a dark, cynical laugh.
Malesh then turned his gaze toward Salesh, who was still standing near the glass doors, watching them.
"Salesh," Malesh stated, his voice flat and dismissive. "We do not want to know your backstory right now. We already know exactly why you are with us, and frankly, it is just funny."
"Yeah, it was really, really funny!" Kniya cackled, leaning back against the railing. "I literally still cannot believe how we met you. You were sitting on a park bench, bleeding half to death from being beaten with hockey sticks, and casually eating a bag of popcorn like nothing happened!"
Salesh crossed his arms, looking deeply annoyed. "I was in a state of shock."
"We literally walked up to you while you were bleeding out and told you dad jokes!" Kniya laughed loudly. "I asked you what you call a fake noodle, and Malesh tried to diagnose you with erectile dysfunction right there on the pavement!"
"It was a logical medical inquiry based on your sheer lack of will to live," Malesh defended smoothly, completely unbothered.
"You guys were incredibly weird from the very start!" Salesh argued loudly. "I owned forty-six percent of Salvesh Industries! I was the head of the fourth largest conglomerate in the world, and you two treated me like a vagrant!"
"Because you were dressed like a homeless guy who slept under a bridge!" Kniya roasted him. "You had billions in liquid assets and you were wearing a faded, five-credit polo shirt!"
"Poverty shows the actual face of the man," Salesh declared proudly, lifting his chin with philosophical arrogance.
Kniya rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck. "Fuck you. You are just cheap."
"At least he wasn't doing what you were doing, Malesh," Salesh shot back, pointing an accusing finger. "Working for a garbage tabloid newspaper company just to make side cash!"
Kniya busted out laughing all over again. "Oh my god, yes! Sutti Mutti Multi-news! You were literally hiding in bushes taking photos of a gang leader getting pooped on!"
Malesh's deadpan expression darkened into a severe, highly offended scowl.
"Having a diversified side income is really important," Malesh argued firmly, refusing to be shamed. "And that was exactly why I was working at that newspaper company. I was acquiring hot, crispy news for the agency. The framing of that photograph was flawless, and it was highly profitable."
The Stolen Comeback
Kniya popped a fresh piece of mint gum into his mouth, his chaotic billionaire persona instantly locking back into business mode.
"Okay, yeah, whatever," Kniya waved his hand dismissively. "Let's get back to actual work. I assume you guys have already restarted the factories in Sulwai and other parts of the country as well? We need to aggressively restart our operations."
Salesh blinked, looking at Kniya in complete confusion. "No? Why would we have started them? You never told us to do that."
Kniya's jaw dropped. He stared at his President like he was an absolute idiot.
"What the fuck?!" Kniya yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "If I never told you to breathe, would you just not breathe?!"
Salesh narrowed his eyes, entirely unimpressed by the insult.
"Don't talk shit to me, Kniya," Salesh fired back sharply. "You literally just stole that exact logic from the hospital!"
Kniya froze, caught red-handed.
"You think I didn't know?!" Salesh accused loudly, pointing a finger at him. "I was literally bleeding out in the emergency ward, but a nurse told me everything because you guys were yelling so loudly before you left! When the hospital staff told him that, they never paid that doctor a salary because the docter never asked for one, you yelled at him, 'If a patient doesn't ask you to save his life, will you not save him?!' You literally just learned that comeback a few hours ago! Don't apply that stolen medical logic to me!"
Kniya aggressively cleared his throat, looking away to hide his embarrassment.
"Okay, okay, whatever the fuck it is!" Kniya deflected, pointing at the heavy brass radio-telephone mounted on the wall just inside the office. "Just open the factories! We need the production lines moving immediately!"
The Toxic Executive
Salesh let out a heavy, incredibly exhausted sigh. He walked over to the wall, picked up the heavy brass receiver of the corded radio-telephone, and aggressively cranked the dial to reach the regional manager of their largest manufacturing sector in Sulwai.
The second the manager picked up the line, Salesh's exhausted demeanor completely vanished. He instantly channeled the toxic, ruthless corporate energy of his two bosses.
"Hey, you idiot. Yeah, I'm talking to you," Salesh barked into the heavy brass receiver, not even bothering to say hello. "Start the factory right now."
There was a frantic, highly confused stammering on the other end of the line.
"Sir?! Why?!" the manager panicked through the static of the radio. "This is too sudden! You are literally telling me to start a massive industrial factory that has been completely shut down for an entire year because of the civil war! We don't have the supply lines ready—"
"I do not give a single shit," Salesh interrupted coldly, his voice dripping with pure corporate apathy. "Just start the fucking factory."
Salesh slammed the heavy brass receiver back onto the hook, cutting the man off entirely. He turned around to face Kniya.
"It's handled," Salesh stated flatly. "The factory will be restarted soon. The employees are ready."
Kniya stared at Salesh. For a brief second, Kniya was genuinely amazed. Seeing Salesh casually verbally abuse a factory director with absolutely zero empathy brought a proud, massive smirk to his face.
"Damn," Kniya grinned. "That is great."
Kniya turned his attention back to his business partner. "What about you, Malesh? Have your factories restarted?"
Malesh smoothly adjusted his glasses, his deadpan expression unyielding.
"First of all, Kniya," Malesh corrected, his voice dry and highly precise. "They are refineries. Not factories. There is a massive operational difference."
Malesh casually leaned against the glass door, looking out over the city.
"And yes, my refineries have already been successfully restarted," Malesh explained. "The police forces in Sulwadiya finally tracked down and arrested the mercenaries who were involved behind the bomb blasts on my infrastructure. With the perpetrators in custody, my refineries are back at full working capacity."
A faint, highly satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of Malesh's mouth.
"And there is one more thing I should tell you," Malesh added smoothly. "I also acquired massive subsidies from the federal government itself. Because the fuel lines were crippled by the war, they are actively providing me with heavy financial incentives and subsidies so that I can restart my refineries with ease. They are essentially paying me to rebuild my own empire."