The Proverbial War

*****

I looked coolly through my eyelashes at the residents of the boardroom. They as a whole reminded one of a herd of scared bunnies, as they fidgeted and ducked their heads away from our gazes at our approach into the boardroom. Two exceptions to the flight mentality were Jim Swanson and Steve Sampson. They were the only ones that showed fight instead of flight.

In fact Jim Swanson looked positively belligerent. I admired his strength, but there was nothing he could do to stop the inevitable, as I had dotted all the 'I's' and crossed all the 't's' too well for there to be any going back. Panolic International had fallen like a mortally wounded beast before my employer, Francesca Marelli, and now it lay helpless to avoid the killing stroke.

I'd done my job successfully and kept my head above water. That was more than could be said for those within the room. Heads were about to roll and my employer was enjoying every moment of my carefully plotted out demise of the once highly successful investment company, whose offshoots employed thousands upon thousands of people.

It gave me no pleasure to know that primarily through my efforts so many were about to lose their livelihoods. It had either been them or me and while I didn't care overly much about whether my head went rolling anymore, there were personal repercussions that I did care about and that I wished to avoid at all costs.

Repercussions that people close to me would be hurt from, even heartbroken, if certain things were revealed. I couldn't afford for that to happen so here I was the principal author over the demise of a Fortune Five Hundred company.

"Won't you all have a seat." Francesca said gesturing in a gracious manner to the room of thirty odd executives.

Everyone had risen at our entrance and now with some furtive looks going on amongst themselves the majority in the room started to sit, but were interrupted by Francesca's false gracious tone once more, "I told you to sit, but not where. You see the chairs now belong to me, but the building is leased. So feel free to sit on the floor."

Those gathered within the room to hear their fate looked among themselves in startlement at the full faced insult that had just been delivered at point-blank range.

Francesca's smile hadn't dimmed any in its predatory import, as she watched on expectantly. Slowly half of those within the room dressed out in ten thousand dollars suits awkwardly got down to sit upon the floor, their faces red, as they avoided eye contact with everyone else in the room.