The Cupola of the Fourth Estate met in the afternoon at its headquarters in the Burned Circuit Slum Complex. They looked like corpses in their matte suits. The order of the day was the purchase of jetpacks from corrupt military personnel. The shipment would arrive in thirty days. Ata had gotten a reasonable price for the order. He was the head of the Arms Trafficking Division.

Lovelie, the group's treasurer, congratulated him on the deal. The Head of the Gambling Division, Iyapo, joined in the celebration by clapping his hands. The criminal organization had made a lot of money in the last few operations. They had taken over the various illegal casino and lottery outposts in the complex. Their tentacles were gripping everything tightly.

Only Juta looked disappointed, although his countenance didn't show it. Of the six at the Cupola of the Fourth Estate, he was the only one who didn't increase the organization's income. In charge of the Drug Trafficking Division, he spent all the profits he received compulsorily. He was a hyper-consumer.

I envied Ata. He hated his success. His sense of constant failure had made him paranoid. He couldn't admit his own incompetence. The divisions worked together, but the bosses didn't interfere in each other's fields. However, Juta had one culprit: his colleagues. He felt they were conspiring behind his back.

It was common for him to sneak down corridors, to hear conversations behind doors. He had considered bugging his colleagues. She hadn't done it for fear of Ata. She knew how dangerous he was when he was angry.

Fucking Ata. If I could, I'd kill him myself. But I can't do that now. Maybe if I hired an assassin… no, bullshit. It wouldn't do any good. If he dies, there will be a struggle for control of the organization. The best thing would be to kill them all in one fell swoop. Hum!

Juta's thoughts were interrupted. The double doors of the meeting room were kicked in. Everyone jumped to their feet. In complete desperation, Chekandino entered, being held down by his three henchmen. The stumps of his arms sparked with electrical discharges.

Ata's younger brother was screaming like an animal. Tears cascaded down his burned face. His nose oozed mucus. He was drooling with tears. At the sight of Ata, the henchmen fled.

"What happened? Who did this to you, little brother?"

Chekandino walked with heavy steps towards Ata. He laid his head on his brother's shoulder and curled up. The militiaman cradled Chekandino as if he were a baby. He stroked his back and kissed his hair.

The other members of the organization watched the scene in disgust. They were twin brothers, but totally different. Ata was elegant, handsome and well-proportioned. The other was ugly, awkward and had an irritating personality.

Lovelie never admitted that the two were brothers. She never communicated her thoughts to Ata. She was his lover; she didn't want him to reject her. She felt a twinge of jealousy when she saw the brotherly love between the two.

Ata took Chekandino's face in his palms. Gently, he asked:

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"My little brother, who did this to you?"

"The Central Command!"

The hearts of those present froze. That was the start of a war. There was a tacit peace agreement between the organizations. The Central Command and the Fourth Estate would not clash as long as the borders of the communities were respected. Chekandino had somehow broken that agreement, and now he was putting everyone at risk.

"They'll pay for this, little brother. You can be sure of that."

Lovelie couldn't let that happen before her eyes. She had to intervene.

"Listen, Ata. You'd better find out what happened. We killed the leaders of the local criminal organizations, but the lieutenants ended up migrating to Chrome Hill. We have plans to take over the Central Command. It can't be done like that, without planning."

"You want me to play blind for this, Lovelie. Look at my little brother's face. I don't want to know what happened, not really! Kinyua will pay for this. I don't even care if he has more men than us. We have more money and more advanced weapons. We can't let this go unpunished. If a relative of someone in the Cupola is attacked, it will convey an image of weakness."

The division chiefs partly agreed with his argument. They didn't want to put their hands on someone like Chekandino. They knew how stupid he could be.

Juta was having fun. The Cupola was splitting in half. He had always imagined that something like this could happen. He needed to take advantage of the situation. He asked for the floor and said:

"Ata is correct in his statement. The message we're going to pass on is what matters. Don't get ahead of yourself. I know how important Chekandino is to you. However, we can't put the Fourth Estate at risk just to carry out a personal vendetta. I propose that Ata and Kinyua meet in a neutral place. That way we can buy time until the shipment of jetpacks arrives. Then we apply a fulminating attack on Chrome Hill. Ata gets his revenge, we get rid of our biggest enemy, and as a bonus, we gain another area to extend our domination. What do you think?"

Lovelie narrowed her eyes. She knew how much of a fox Juta could be when he wanted to be. She didn't catch his move. He could be plotting a coup against the Cupola itself.

This wretch just wants to play us off against each other. I've never seen him care about anything but himself. If I were to bet my chips, I'd say that at some point he'll meet with the head of Central Command.

Ata looked at Juta with a firm gaze. All his aggression was concentrated in his vision.

"Okay. I can't guarantee that I'll be civil during the conversation."

"All right, just don't overdo it. Buy yourself some time. Pretend you can take a break from the thing."

Which you'll never do, hohohoho. If I know you, you'll grit your teeth for Kinyua. He'll prepare for war too, the two of them will kill each other in a sea of blood. Now all that's left is to solve five four more problems.

"I'll set up the meeting with the head of Central Command for tomorrow night. I'll go alone, no, Lovelie, alone. Come on, little brother. You need to go in a ripper."

The tense atmosphere eased as the two brothers left the room. In silence, it took them a minute to leave too. Iyapo and Lovelie lingered longer in the meeting room. The head of the Gambling Division looked at Juta and said:

"You're up to something, aren't you? Pray to your ancestors and the gods that Ata doesn't find out. Otherwise, you'll be a dead man."

"Go lick Ata's balls, you asshole! And take that bitch with you."

Lovelie felt wounded in her pride. She rehearsed a few insults, but Iyapo led her away down the corridor.

Juta got up from his chair, made sure there was no one in the corridor. She returned to the table. He checked that there was no bug on the table or on the walls. Once he felt safe, he pulled his smartphone out of his suit pocket. He typed in a number and made a call that only certain people could make. The call was encrypted. Anyone who tapped it was putting their life at risk.

"Ah, yes, get in touch with the old butcher… I want to order a few good kilos of meat… Please, I'll pay by bank transfer… Half now, half later… No, in a month's time… They'll send their best butcher, how nice… I can't wait to serve the dish."