Political Solutions

The office was a mausoleum of power, its walls lined with leather-bound tomes and the ghosts of forgotten deals. A long oak table stretched between Senator Gaius Varnus and Senator Livia Drusca, its surface scarred from decades of ink and ambition. Gaius lounged at one end, his broad frame slouched in a chair, a glass of amber liquor dangling from his fingers. Livia sat ramrod straight at the other, her tablet glowing with notes, her stylus tapping a rhythm of calculated intent. Between them, the assassin—introduced only as “Corvus”—leaned back, hands folded, his gray coat blending with the shadows. He looked like a clerk, not a killer, his pale eyes scanning the room with bored precision. On the table before him sat a slim dossier, unopened.

“You’re here to fix a system,” Gaius began, swirling his drink. “Not a single hit—think bigger. A department. Clean cuts, ongoing. We’re drowning in disruptors—agitators, leeches, the kind who’d burn the house down to warm their hands.”

Livia’s stylus paused. “We need a scalpel, not a sledgehammer. Remove the predators—unregulated profiteers preying on the uneducated, the trusting. A quiet purge, structured. Sustainable.”

Corvus tilted his head, voice smooth as polished stone. “You’re negotiating a contract, not a sermon. Scope of work—give me targets, frequency, oversight. I don’t care about your utopia. I care about deliverables.”

Gaius grinned, leaning forward, his knuckles whitening around the glass. “Deliverables? Start with the regulators—those bloated ticks in silk suits, strangling the system with red tape and backroom deals. Corruption’s the real rot—crony lords bleeding the marrow from the bones of the weak. Cut their throats, and the air clears.”

Livia’s lips thinned, her gaze cold as a blade’s edge. “No, the air chokes without order. Corruption’s a shadow cast by chaos—let your ‘clearing’ run wild, and you get jackals, not justice. The disruptors, the grifters peddling snake oil to the desperate, the ones preying on the trusting—that’s the poison. We need a framework: vetted kills, a board’s stamp. No rogue blades.”

Corvus tapped the dossier lightly. “Board’s fine. I’ve worked under worse. But you’re dodging the spine of it—what’s evil enough to kill? You want a department, you need a creed. I don’t shoot shadows.”

Gaius chuckled, sipping his drink. “The suits upstairs trading favors for blood? They’re the slow poison.”

Livia’s eyes glinting like flint. “A profiteer ruins a thousand lives with a pen stroke—unregulated, he’s a plague. Greater good demands we prioritize systemic threats.”

Corvus nodded, almost amused. “ ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’ Burke. Old words, sharp truth. You both see evil—action’s the cure. But you’re haggling over symptoms. I’ve heard this dance before—clients who’d rather talk than decide.”

Gaius set his glass down, the clink sharp in the quiet. “Decide? Fine. Build it flexible—target the irredeemable first, then pivot. Corruption’s my hill—clean the top, and the bottom sorts itself. Give us a kill list, monthly quotas. You report to me.”

Livia’s stylus resumed its rhythm. “No, to a council—me included. Quotas, yes, but weighted. Predatory scam lords first. We log every hit, transparent to us, opaque to them.”

“Transparency’s a leash,” Gaius shot back. “You’d strangle the thing before it walks. Let it roam—trust the contractor. Corruption’s the root; disruption’s just the noise.”

Corvus opened the dossier, sliding out a single sheet—a blank contract. “You’re close. I’ll give you a framework: Tier One, agreed upon evils—your rapists, your killers. Tier Two, systemic—your cronies, your grifters. Oversight split between you, reports encrypted. I pick the shots, you pick the pool. Fair?”

Livia nodded slowly. “Fair. But intent matters. Soldiers aren’t villains; generals can be.”

“Choice is the blade,” Corvus agreed, his tone casual. “Act’s just the swing. A soldier’s clean—hired hands. Evil’s in the ones who point the finger.” He scribbled notes on the contract, then paused. “So, you agree on an evil? A starting line?”

Gaius leaned back, smirking. “Rapists. Murderers. Low-hanging fruit.”

“Same,” Livia said, a rare accord. “Then we climb—systemic rot, vetted.”

Corvus slid the contract across the table, signed in neat, looping script. “Done. First targets —two names, my call. You’ll see the files after.” He stood, pulling a silenced .22 from his coat, its barrel a dull gleam. “Oh, one clause I forgot—no one is off limits.”

Gaius’s smirk froze. Livia’s stylus clattered. Two soft phuts cut the air—Gaius slumped, a red bloom just between his nose and left eye; Livia toppled, her tablet clanking as it hit the floor. Very little blood on the oak.

Corvus tucked the pistol away, retrieving the contract. “Corruption’s a mirror, not a mask. You built the trap—hired the hand. Evil triumphs when good men let evil men draw the blueprints.” He stepped over Gaius’s sprawled form, leaving the dossier behind, its blank page stained with a single drop of red.

The door clicked shut, and the room swallowed its secrets.