The Special Order
"Can you guys stop with this absolute shit?!" Filoska yelled, throwing her hands up in utter exhaustion. "I want to talk to you about one highly important thing that the employee just handed me before you psychos fell out of the almirah!"
Salesh, who was still holding the brass lamp, froze. Malesh wiped the actual blood from his lip, and Kniya slowly opened one eye, sucking the rest of the tomato sauce off his teeth.
"You guys need to know about this immediately," Filoska stated, her voice dropping into a cold, lethal corporate tone. She picked up the heavily stamped file from her desk. "The government has officially issued a special order against us. We need to completely file the tax report to the government immediately. Because according to their audits, and as we all secretly know... we haven't paid a single credit of our corporate taxes for the last three months."
The entire room went dead silent. The comedic, chaotic energy evaporated instantly.
Salesh's face turned completely white. The brass lamp slipped out of his hand, crashing heavily onto the floor.
"Taxes?!" Salesh shrieked, sheer panic completely overriding his system. "Are you absolutely kidding me?! Three months of unpaid Kavilson Steel taxes?! The amount is going to be astronomical!"
Malesh pushed himself up off the floor, his deadpan mask returning, but his dark eyes were wide with genuine corporate terror.
"Yeah, Kniya," Malesh stated mechanically, his voice laced with dread. "If we do not pay this tax, the tax officers will completely liquidate us. You know exactly how bad the tax department is in this country. They are completely ruthless. They will go to absolutely any extent, legal or illegal, just to collect the taxes."
Kniya slowly sat up, wiping the smeared ketchup off his chin with his sleeve. The arrogant capitalist smirk completely vanished from his face, replaced by a rare, intensely serious focus.
"Yeah, Malesh," Kniya nodded slowly, his mind already racing with high-speed evasive calculations. "I know very well about this thing."
Kniya stood up, dusting off his expensive suit. He looked at the Vice President with a completely serious expression.
"Okay, Filoska. Thank you very much for telling me this highly important information," Kniya declared firmly. He turned and marched straight toward the heavy double doors of the executive suite. "I am going to the tax collection office right now. And I am going alone. I am going to pay the taxes."
The Right Motive
Kniya adjusted the cuffs of his expensive tailored suit, preparing to face the absolute nightmare that was the federal tax department. He turned his head and looked at his best friend, who was currently dusting off his blazer after Filoska's brutal punch.
"Do you want to come with me, Malesh?" Kniya asked.
Malesh slowly adjusted his perfectly knotted silk tie, keeping his face an absolute void of emotion.
"Actually, the thing is that today, I do not feel the right motive from my heart to come with you," Malesh stated flatly, placing a hand over his chest in a rare, entirely unconvincing display of sentiment. "So Kniya, you can go alone. All alone."
Kniya blinked, staring at him. He was completely thrown off by the weirdly emotional excuse.
"Well... okay, yeah," Kniya replied, highly confused but accepting it. "Okay, yes. See you later then."
Leaving the ruined executive suite behind, Kniya walked out into the hallway, took the private elevator all the way down to the ground floor, and strolled out into the executive parking garage.
The Car Ambush
Kniya pulled the heavy keys from his pocket and grabbed the iron handle of his massive armored steam-car. He violently yanked the heavy door open and immediately froze in his tracks.
"What the fuck?" Kniya blurted out.
Sitting comfortably in the back seats were Salesh and Filoska. And sitting right in the front passenger seat, already buckled in and staring straight ahead through the windshield, was Malesh.
Before Kniya could even demand an explanation, Malesh smoothly turned his head and offered his preemptive defense with absolute, deadpan confidence.
"Well, the thing is that I didn't wanted to come here by my own choice," Malesh explained flatly, completely lying through his teeth. "But Salesh and Filoska aggressively forced me to come here. And that is exactly why I had to come."
Kniya just stared at him. He gestured to the open door.
"Okay, then Malesh, you can just leave my car right now if you were forced," Kniya offered, crossing his arms. "I will handle them. You can go back upstairs."
"No, it is not required," Malesh replied instantly, not moving a single muscle to unbuckle his seatbelt. "I am too lazy enough. I do not feel my heart to go get out."
Kniya let out a loud, highly obnoxious snort, shaking his head at the sheer audacity of the lie.
"Why are you acting so dramatic today, Malesh?" Kniya laughed, sliding into the driver's seat. "You are a literal, great liar. I have to say that for sure, but I cannot do anything about it."
"You just have to accept the fact, Kniya," Malesh stated mechanically. Then, breaking his signature deadpan persona for just a fraction of a second, a dark smirk crossed his face. "Hahaha."
Kniya slammed the heavy iron door shut, fired up the roaring R12 steam engine, and peeled out of the Kavilson Steel garage, driving aggressively toward the tax department headquarters in Seistain.
Narrator's Intervention (You can skip this if you want to)
(Alright, listen up. It is me again.)
(Well, I actually don't know if there is anyone reading the story till here, but still, it is my task as the narrator of the story to inform everyone who is reading, so yeah. Here we are.)
(Now that my serious professional duty is out of the way—let's talk about how much I absolutely hate writing this driving scene! The whole cliché start of the massive R12 engines roaring is really, really boring for me to write again and again. My brain is actively melting trying to find new ways to describe steam and tires, and I know it is just as mind-numbing for you to read. So, basically, I am just implementing this utterly useless rant so you can have some other time pass, or you can waste your time in a much more entertaining way!)
(Basically, I don't have a single clue how I am going to expand this filler episode for the next seven days! Expanding the word count is really, really important, so I am literally just padding this out right now with my own premium trolling. And the absolute best part? The author still does not know about this thing! I am actively hijacking this entire narrative right under his nose because it is not part of the main story, and I am just here to waste your time!)
(Who knows whether there will be another driving scene after this one or not? Maybe I'll just describe a brick wall for five pages next time. I am just here to troll the users, nothing else. Okay, so yeah, I was just here to waste your time again. Yeah, bye.)
The Tax Ambush
The heavy steam-car hissed loudly, expelling a thick cloud of white vapor as Kniya aggressively slammed the brakes, skidding to a halt right in front of the federal tax department headquarters.
Kniya stepped out of the vehicle onto the cobblestone street, adjusting his expensive tailored suit, and looked up. The architecture was towering, incredibly imposing, and built entirely out of thick, soot-stained concrete that looked like it was designed specifically to crush the financial hopes of the citizens.
"Oh, oh," Kniya muttered, leaning his head all the way back to look at the massive roof. "This is the tax department building? I honestly never thought it was so big. They must be extorting a massive amount of money from us to afford this much concrete."
Before Malesh could even open his passenger door to reply, chaotic, heavy footsteps echoed wildly across the pavement.
A guy in a cheap, incredibly wrinkled government suit was actively sprinting out of the building's main doors. He was rushing directly toward their car at full speed, his cheap necktie violently floating in the air behind him like a cape. He looked completely desperate and highly unhinged.
"Hey! Hey, you! You!" the frantic guy screamed at the top of his lungs, pointing directly at Kniya. "Give the tax right now! Hey! Give the tax amount! Where are you going?! Stop! Stop right there!"
Kniya completely froze, dropping his hand from the car door. His chaotic capitalist energy instantly shifted into pure, aggressive street-defense mode. If a strange man aggressively sprints at you in the middle of Seistain screaming for cash, he is not an officer of the law—he is a literal mugger.
Kniya scowled, aggressively popping his mint gum as he glared at the screaming man, entirely ready for a physical altercation.
"Who the fuck are you?!" Kniya yelled back, genuinely confused and highly annoyed. "And what the fuck are you asking me for?!"