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The elevator doors opened with a ding. The red haired woman stepped out and moved towards the secretary’s desk that was located along the grey wall.
The woman behind it briefly glanced at whom had arrived before speaking into her intercom, “She’s here, Mr. Gryphon.”
The Boss proceeded past the secretary without even an acknowledging nod. She was too preoccupied with what would wait for her in the room ahead.
The large steel doors swung open as the Saints’ leader strutted into the spacious office. As she walked up the wide stairs, Eric Gryphon, Ultor’s new head of special project, whom she had partnered with, came into view. He was standing behind his desk with his back to her as he looked down at the city with his hands behind his back. He stood in front of the large window pane that she had previously sent Dane Vogel through.
Velvet closed the distance between them before speaking, “What’s up, Eric?”
He was still facing away from her when he answered, “That’s what I want to know.”
The man didn’t sound happy, and the Boss knew why. She wasn’t too thrilled about any of this either.
“When did you become so sloppy?” He finally turned around when asking this, “Why is it that the largest gang in the city could screw up in such a way?”
She hated being talked to in this way, but she had learned to somewhat restrain herself when it came to these kinds of meetings.
A few months ago, she would have already shot him out the window, like his predecessor before him. Instead, she tried to keep her cool when answering, “Eric, don’t worry. I’ll get the money back.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, a little annoyed at how careless she sounded, “You’re missing the point, V. The money was insured. I’m more concerned about you.”
“What?” She had heard him just fine, but she didn’t like what she was hearing.
“When I signed your crew on as security, the point was for your guys to protect the money,” Gryphon stressed, “not lose it.”
“Watch yourself, Gryphon,” she warned him. While the man had a little bit more leeway than most due to his position and their past, there was still a limit to the Boss’ patience. And Ultor’s new head of special projects was treading really fucking close to reaching it.
The suited man let out a sigh before saying anything that would likely get him killed, or at least, very injured. Trying to calm himself so as to not escalate this meeting into a parachute-less base jumping session like his precursor, he put on a somewhat gentler voice, “This attack is a concern, V.”
“You think I don’t know that?” The horned woman growled back at him, “I’m not happy this happened either, believe it or not!”
“Good, we're on the same page then," he took a seat and indicated for her to do the same, "so what do you plan to do?”
She sat down on the chair opposite of his, putting her legs up on the marble desk, “We’ve already discussed increased security measures internally.”
“Please, enlighten me,” he put his hands together as he asked for details.
“Multiple trucks will leave the casino at the same time instead of just one, but only one has the actual goods in it,” the gang leader began to list off the improvements they had come up with, “more cars than before will be following each truck, and we’re taking alternating routes that are random for each delivery.”
“Hm,” Eric dryly acknowledged her solution. He seemed neither pleased nor disappointed, “We’ll see how these, erm, 'improvements' work out for you.”
She was clenching her fists underneath the table where he couldn’t see in reaction to his condescending tone, “I’ll keep you updated.”
“Yes,” he turned around in his chair, facing away from her and looking out the window once more, “just don’t have something like this happen a second time. I would hate to involve the Masako in this matter.”
Velvet knew that he meant having the Masako run security instead of the Saints, but the way he worded it also made it sound like a threat.
Eric had witnessed how deadly their elite soldiers were first hand, and how the Saints had struggled against them before the ceasefire.
“You won’t have to,” she assured him as she got up from her chair, “I’ll talk to you soon.”
He didn’t say anything back as he watched her leave through the reflection in the window. The Boss took two steps at a time as she made her way down the stairs and stomped outside. She stormed past the bored secretary who gave her a smug look in passing. She hit the button on the elevator and waited for the doors to open. When they finally did a few seconds later, she entered it and hit the button to reach the underground garage where she had parked her car. The lift began its fast descent. It was an express elevator which would reach the ground floor in less than a minute.
The gang leader had to resist the urge to turn the elevator back around when she went over the previous conversation in her head.
The way Eric handled things didn’t sit well with her. Sometimes, it felt like he viewed her as his lesser. When originally partnering with Ultor, everything had seemed perfectly fine and things were going her way. Money was coming in, their records were mostly wiped, or rather,
swept under the rug, and they had a lot more leeway with the police.
But in moments like these, it was apparent how little power she actually held on the wider spectrum. The Boss wasn’t at the top of Ultor as some people liked the allege. In the grand scheme of things, she was just another cog in a well oiled machine that could easily be replaced on a whim at the slightest inconvenience.
The demoness felt heated, and she knew that if she had stayed in that office for any longer, Ultor might have needed a new head of special projects. Velvet did however vent out a small amount of her frustrations as she slammed her fist into the metal wall of the elevator, leaving a noticeable dent in the sturdy material.