Season 2 chapter 32
The Meta Interruption
Before Kniya could ask exactly where these hockey-stick-wielding college kids went, the sound of frantic, slapping footsteps echoed against the concrete.
Someone was sprinting directly toward them.
Suddenly, a strange, breathless man slid to a halt right next to the wooden bench. He wasn't bleeding, but he looked incredibly panicked. He was wearing mismatched clothes and staring directly at Kniya and Malesh with wide, crazed eyes.
"Hey! Hey, wait!" the strange man gasped, holding his hands up as if trying to calm them down. "My name is Antox Desk! Please, listen to me!"
Malesh slowly turned his head, his deadpan glare locking onto the intruder. "Who the fuck are you, and why are you breathing so loudly in my presence?"
"Don't worry!" Antox Desk yelled, pointing frantically at the bleeding man on the bench. "He is not the main character! You shouldn't be afraid! I just came here to tell you not to worry about him!"
Kniya blinked, completely completely thrown off by the absolute nonsense spilling out of the stranger's mouth.
"What the fuck?" Kniya demanded, stepping away from the bench. "What are you really talking about? Main character? Are you high on industrial solvent?"
"Don't worry!" Antox Desk repeated, waving his hands frantically like he was trying to break the fourth wall. "Just let it go! Don't engage!"
Kniya didn't ask a second question. His street-honed survival instincts immediately overrode his billionaire restraint.
Without breaking eye contact, Kniya reached under his designer leather jacket and smoothly pulled out a sawed-off, heavy-gauge shotgun he had been concealing the entire morning. He racked the slide with a loud, terrifying CH-CHAK that echoed over the noise of the amusement park.
"Fuck you, idiot," Kniya growled, pointing the massive barrel directly at Antox Desk's chest. "Who the fuck are you to interfere in between my conversations? Back up before I turn your chest into a fucking skylight."
Antox Desk took one look at the massive barrel of the shotgun, let out a high-pitched shriek of pure terror, and immediately bolted. He spun around and sprinted back into the crowd as fast as his legs could carry him, disappearing into a sea of terrified tourists.
Kniya lowered the shotgun, completely unfazed, and slipped it back under his jacket.
"The public in this city is getting really fucking weird," Kniya muttered, popping his gum. He looked back down at the bleeding man on the bench. "Anyway. Where did you say those college kids went?"
The Late Arrival
Kniya was still staring at the spot where the bizarre, screaming man had disappeared into the crowd when the rapid, sharp clicking of designer heels echoed across the concrete promenade.
Filoska Vinten came sprinting around the corner of the House of Mirrors. She was wearing an immaculate, sharp business-casual coat, completely out of breath, and looking incredibly stressed.
She skidded to a halt, her eyes darting from Kniya, to Malesh, and finally landing on the man sitting on the bench, who was currently bleeding profusely all over his bag of popcorn.
Filoska's eyes widened in sheer horror.
"What the fuck?!" Filoska shrieked, pointing an accusing finger directly at her two bosses. "What did you do to this man?! I leave you two alone for thirty minutes, and you are literally fighting an innocent civilian in a theme park?! He is covered in blood! He literally did nothing!"
"Whoa, whoa, stop, stop, stop," Kniya said, holding his hands up defensively. "We didn't do shit to him. He was already a human meat-crayon when we found him. We just asked him why he looked like he went through a woodchipper."
Filoska lowered her hand, looking at the guy's shredded shirt. "Why is he hurt? Who did this?"
"It is a very long, incredibly pathetic story involving hockey sticks and a bad breakup," Kniya sighed, popping his mint gum. "We will tell you later on. Right now, I have a better question."
Kniya crossed his arms, leaning back against the rusted iron railing.
"Why the fuck are you thirty minutes late to your own mandatory leisure day?" Kniya demanded.
Filoska straightened her coat, catching her breath. "I was delayed. It was an important piece of work I had to complete before leaving the executive tower."
Malesh, who had been quietly standing by the bench with his hands in his pockets, turned his head. His cold, deadpan expression didn't change as he smoothly interrupted her.
"Yeah, I know about that 'important work,'" Malesh stated bluntly, his voice entirely flat. "It was definitely applying an excessive layer of makeup and taking thirty minutes to decide which expensive dress to wear to an amusement park. Vanity is a terrible reason to be late."
The Vinten Strike
WHAM.
The punch was flawless. Filoska didn't even hesitate. Operating on years of built-up corporate rage, she pivoted on her heel and drove a vicious, closed-fist punch directly into the side of Malesh's jaw.
Malesh's head snapped to the side. He stumbled back half a step, entirely caught off guard by the sheer velocity of the strike. He slowly brought a hand up, rubbing his bruised jawline as he adjusted his tailored collar.
Kniya didn't intervene. He just let out a loud, obnoxious bark of laughter.
"I was clearing federal transit documents for the fucking airlines, Malesh!" Filoska roared, her knuckles turning red. "I was balancing the export tariffs! It was not about a fucking dress, you arrogant prick!"
"Physical assault is an improper response to constructive criticism," Malesh muttered, flexing his jaw to make sure it wasn't broken.
"I don't care about the fucking reason you were late, and I don't care about the punch!" Kniya interrupted, waving his hands to cut off the argument. "Both of you, shut up and focus. We have a situation."
Filoska took a deep breath, smoothing her coat down and glaring at Malesh one last time before turning to Kniya. "What situation?"
The High School Connection
Kniya pointed his thumb back at the bleeding man on the bench, who was still just quietly eating his popcorn and ignoring them.
"The guys who beat him up," Kniya said, his voice dropping into a serious, street-level register. "He said they were a gang of college kids. They cornered him, asked him if he supported democracy or monarchy, and then beat the shit out of him when he said he was neutral."
Filoska frowned. "Political gang violence? In the entertainment district?"
"Yeah," Kniya nodded, a dark smirk creeping onto his face. "But that's not the interesting part. The guy said the gang was from Seistain High. And they call themselves The Democratic Ones."
Filoska froze. She had read the old security dossiers on Kniya and Malesh when she first became Vice President. She knew exactly what they used to call themselves back when they were radical street kids fighting in the slums.
"You know, Malesh," Kniya continued, turning to look at his business partner. "We actually studied in that exact same high school. Seistain High. This is our old turf."
Malesh stopped rubbing his jaw. He lowered his hand, his dark, intense eyes locking onto the pavement. The deadpan, emotionless mask he usually wore slipped just a fraction, revealing something cold and deeply nostalgic underneath.
"Yeah," Malesh said quietly, his voice dangerously calm. "I know about all the things happening in that district. And I know about this gang leader too well."
Kniya raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. As billionaires, they hadn't stepped foot near Seistain High in over a decade. They lived in penthouses and corporate towers, far away from the teenage street wars.
"How the fuck do you know about the leader of The Democratic Ones so well?" Kniya asked, crossing his arms. "You know this gang?"
Malesh looked up, staring past Kniya and out toward the massive steel rollercoasters of the park.
"Let me tell you a story," Malesh said flatly.
The Sutti Mutti Incident
Malesh looked past the rusted railing of the amusement park, his dark eyes entirely devoid of emotion as he recalled the memory.
"The leader of The Democratic Ones is a highly volatile, radically aggressive teenager," Malesh began, his voice completely flat. "A few weeks ago, he was resting after a street fight. He was sleeping on a public bench in the commercial district. Because he lacks basic situational awareness, he was sleeping with his mouth wide open."
Kniya popped his mint gum, leaning in. "Okay. And?"
"And," Malesh continued without missing a single beat, "a random pedestrian walked up to the bench. He looked down at the sleeping gang leader, silently unbuckled his belt, slid down his pants, lowered his underwear, and explicitly, directly pooped right onto the leader's face."
Filoska instantly slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in pure horror.
"What the fuck?!" Kniya yelled, bursting into a loud, echoing laugh.
"It is a factual recounting of events," Malesh stated, entirely unbothered by the sheer disgust of the story. "Because the leader's mouth was open, the biological waste made direct, highly unfortunate contact with his internal cavity."
"Oh my god, stop!" Filoska gagged, taking a massive step back from Malesh. "I am literally going to throw up! That is disgusting! Why the hell are you describing it with so much detail?! How do you even know this?!"
"I read about it," Malesh replied smoothly, adjusting his tailored cuffs. "It was thoroughly documented in a local newspaper named Sutti Mutti Multi-news."
Kniya frowned, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. "Sutti Mutti Multi-news? What kind of weird, garbage-tier tabloid name is that?"
"It is an independent publication," Malesh defended mildly. "Regardless, the aftermath of the incident was absolute chaos."