As the president and chief executive officer of Morgston Industrial and Steel, Gene was in his mansion that overlooked the bungalow and private beach on the island he bought for ten million dollars. Facing him in his white robe that had the initials of his name in gold was a flat screen television twice his wingspan. It hung from the wall with shelves full of books, magazines, and decorative ceramic pieces drilled into its sides.

The couch he was sitting on seemed to zap away stress because of the softness of its armrests, cushions, and pillows. Having a matching footrest that was well-stitched and covered in the same light burgundy of the couch also did wonders in alleviating said stress.

When his phone rang, he knew it had to be Gill eager to give him updates on the situation in Bale. He didn't want to get up to end his relaxing moment, so his arm went into a full stretch to get it from the birch slab table sanded and coated in clear epoxy resin to ask if things have gotten better. Gene then sunk his back and head into the couch in preparation for what he felt was bad news.

"For once, I can confidently say that things are getting better." Gill said this in a fabulous suit and tie while in a two-seater sports car with a carbon fibre frame that could go up to three hundred and fifty horsepower. He parked it next to a sidewalk to go on a dinner date with his wife. "We have rounded up over three hundred rioters and have more or less halted the chaos in District F."

"What about the other districts?" Gene got up to have the good news flow into his system.

"From what I have been told, about two other districts are being brought under control as we speak. With the reinforcements now arriving, we can get the others under control."

"Great to know. I hope those guys from the government can get the job done without going overboard. This shit has gone on for too long. If anyone finds out about this, it'll be hard to contain even with us bribing the mainstream media."

Gene was a man far from a saintly figure, and he was this way to maintain his position through level-headed ruthlessness. The events in Bale could lead to his workforce being decimated if he wasn't careful. He had the money to replace their trailers and anything else required, but to replace the people he saw as animals would be harder.

Sadly, they had laws passed that somewhat protected them because of intense activism. These were in the form of petitions, online groups, and sit-in protests near the parliamentary building, offices of corporate businesses, and the home of the royal family.

But what got Gene fuming was the recent participation of Colt Hughes, the son of one of the heirs to the Dymo Motor Company. His well-groomed hair, his idealised chin, eyes, nose and cheeks, and respectable demeanour got the interest of many youth, particularly young women.

"Trust me, they will. There are a bunch of people in high places willing to put their neck out for us in this instance.” Gill double-checked the message he received, stating that the situation in Bale would be fine. “That's how we got these reinforcements. All we have to do is double our donations when the next election comes around.” As he talked, there was emphasis on him needing to have faith, but to him, such belief didn't always enable success. "Normally, Ironside and their paid goons would have contained this madness by now, but even with the progress made, they can't do it alone."

There wasn't more he could say, for a sudden series of taps came to the window of Gill's sports car. When he noticed who did it, he had to remove himself from their discussion for a bit.

Give me a second, Gene. He muted his phone before pressing the button to wind down the glass to hear the more than faint sounds of his wife. "Honey, I said I'm coming."

His wife had perfected being assertive while not disturbing the peace whenever she lambasted him in public. But tonight, she had no sense of control. Wasting time was not a part of her plans. "That was five minutes ago, Gill! We are supposed to be on a date and you're holding us back with whoever you're talking to."

"It's some of my tennis buddies, babe."

"That doesn't matter right now. This is a night to love each other and what you're doing now isn't love, Gill."

"You know I love you and that hasn't changed, babe." Gill got out of the air-conditioned cool and pristine leather seats to grab his wife's arm to walk her into a luxury restaurant specialising in seafood and steak.

After guiding her inside, he told her he had forgotten the keys in the ignition and she allowed him to do so while she ordered. This was his chance to get back in the car and pull out his phone to resume his updates of the situation.

"I'm back, Gene."

"Great. That wife you have enjoys pestering you, doesn't she?" A giggle broke out from him after saying this.

He shrugged off his question and pleaded for them to get on with it.

"Okay, okay. We'll see how fast we can wrap this up."

Gill sped through the remainder of what he needed to know as the boss and felt satisfied when he was done. But hearing all this got Gene to ask him if they had found who started this entire thing.

All this talking prompted Gene to have a nearby servant bring him water in a plastic cup as someone who sweated a lot. He also liked throwing stuff on the floor when things related to his business were not going well.

"So that truly means we're not all that close." Gene chugged down the cup and slammed it on the table. "By this point, I'm just hoping this will wrap itself up without the board of directors finding out."

"I do hope so. I really, really do. Well then, see you later."

"You too, Gill."

With their talk over, Gill put his phone away and brought back his seat so he could take a minute to contemplate everything through his sunroof.

"Looks like I caught you getting cozy talking to your boys, haven't I?" She was coming at him with her hands on her big hips.

He was screwed. Only her pet name would get her to not act up.

"Thickumz, you know I would never do such a thing. You know I always love you."

Gill, you shouldn't say that name out here! You're making me feel embarrassed!

When he got her juicy ass at a good angle, he returned his seat to its original orientation to slap it from the side. Luckily for his wife, there were no passers-by to hear it or see her blushing.

Why did you do that, Gill? Leave that for when we're home!

He pushed his head out the car and got her to bend down to whisper in her ear. But you know when I do that, that's me expressing my love at its strongest.

"You fucking bastard! Just get out so we can eat! I've already ordered mine."

Gill then went inside with his wife, Natlia, who wore a sparking dress with gloves, two-inch high heels, diamond stud earrings and flat ironed hair on her voluptuous frame.

Gene, in the meanwhile, was getting his servants to decorate the fountain shrine of Andressa out on his lawn. It had streams of water shot out from spouts that went over a figure of Andressa covered in literal cloth. In her grasp was a tilted jug where water fell into the fountain, causing ripples amongst its surface.

He implored them to move faster in the kitchen where they were grinding the cranberries with mortars and pestles to paint around its edge. The fat scarlet wax candles and the oven lighter were already outside, and with him pressuring them, they got out to set up the shrine for worship.

Then his knees got on the grass and sought to manifest a reality where the workers were subdued and sanity was restored. This brought a wind that outed the candles and left slight trails of smoke to go upwards, indicating his wish would be taken care of.

Gene praised the demi-god Andressa and followed the cobblestone path back inside while his servants cleaned up. All he had to do now was wait for the results of his devotion.