Season 2 chapter 37
The Rigged Interview
Kniya was still screaming at Salesh about newspaper publishing rights, and Malesh was sitting with his arms crossed like a sociopathic judge, when the shattered remains of the office doors were pushed aside.
Filoska Vinten stepped into the executive suite.
She stopped dead in her tracks. She looked at the massive hole blown through the ceiling. She looked at the glass from the chandelier covering the expensive rugs. She looked at the shotgun resting on Kniya's mahogany desk, and finally, she looked at Malesh sitting casually in a leather chair.
Filoska's face contorted into absolute, unadulterated horror.
"What the actual fuck is going on in this office?!" Filoska shrieked, clutching her designer briefcase like a shield. "I leave for one hour! One hour! What the fuck happened to the ceiling?! And why the fuck is Malesh here?! This is Kavilson Steel! It is not his company! Why the fuck is he here? For what?! For fucking what?!"
Kniya waved a hand dismissively, completely ignoring the property damage. "Relax, Filoska. He is working as a jokes person here. He is ensuring that this is a joke interview, and I am ensuring that we are taking a joke interview. It's a very formal process."
Filoska stared at him, her brain failing to process the sheer stupidity of the statement. "What? Fucking what?!"
She marched up to the desk, pointing an accusing finger at Salesh, who was still wearing his cheap clothes and hospital bandages.
"You are going to make him the President?!" Filoska yelled at Kniya. "But why?! He does not have the qualifications for the heavy steel industry! He is a rival conglomerate owner who dresses like a street vagrant! Why the fuck do you want to make him the President?!"
"I cannot do anything about it, Filoska," Kniya sighed dramatically, gesturing to a thick, heavy stack of green paper resting on his desk. "As you can see this massive bundle of papers here. They speak for themselves. I am talking about actual degrees, his CV, his highly detailed resume... I am talking about this paper right here."
Malesh adjusted his dragon-themed tie and leaned forward, entirely deadpan.
"Those are not degrees," Malesh stated flatly. "That is a bundle of high-denomination notes. Salesh has bribed Kniya with exactly fifty million credits in untraceable cash. This interview is mathematically and entirely fucking rigged. I am telling you, this is fucking rigged."
Filoska's jaw literally dropped. She looked at the cash, then at Kniya.
"What?!" Filoska screamed. "You literally took a bribe from your own interview applicant?! Are you insane?!"
"Okay, Filoska, you need to calm down and understand the macro-economics of the situation," Kniya said, suddenly putting on a very serious, documentary-style narrator voice, looking off into the distance. "Taking a bribe is really important for our lives. It is the grease that keeps the gears of industry turning. Without the exchange of illicit funds, how can we truly measure a man's dedication to the corporate vision? Nature demands balance. I am simply a vessel for the free market..."
Filoska stared at him, completely speechless.
The Bribe Standoff
Kniya abruptly stopped his documentary monologue, his nose twitching. He aggressively sniffed the air.
"Okay, anyway, I cannot do anything about that. He is going to be the President," Kniya declared, waving his hand in front of his face. "Also... I think someone just farted here."
Salesh looked around, disgusted.
"It should be ensured that absolutely no one farts in this executive office!" Kniya yelled, slamming his hand on the desk. "I am making a new corporate rule right now! Zero tolerance for biological emissions!"
Malesh didn't even blink. "Yeah, Kniya. I know that you are the one who farted. Your dietary habits are atrocious."
"Shut the fuck up!" Kniya roared, his face flushing red. He quickly pointed at Salesh to change the subject. "Okay, Salesh! I want this interview to end. And for ending the interview, you need to pay me some more notes. Slide another ten million over here."
Salesh crossed his arms, leaning back with an arrogant smirk. "No. Absolutely no. Kniya, you already took a bribe of fifty million credits. I am not going to pay you fucking more for this interview. The transaction is complete."
"Ah, fuck," Kniya groaned, slamming his head against the desk. "Fuck this shit!"
Kniya suddenly sat back up, pointing his gold pen at Salesh. "Okay, so I am not going to end this interview! I am going to continue this forever! Malesh, lock the broken door! And Salesh, I am also going to give you a significantly less salary!"
"Okay, okay," Salesh shrugged, completely unbothered. "So I'm not going to pay you more, even though you continue the interview. And I am also going to take massive bribes and commissions and kickbacks to ensure my salary reaches high anyway. I don't need your corporate paycheck."
Kniya threw his pen across the room in pure, unfiltered rage.
"Fine! Let's just turn this entire office into a fucking Bribe commission Center!" Kniya screamed at the top of his lungs. "Ensure there is a fucking board outside of the office that says: THIS OFFICE IS ONLY FOR BRIBES! You all can take bribes! Give bribes! Everything is possible here! What the fuck do you want to do?! We are literally having so much talk of bribes in this office right now that the federal police are probably listening through the vents!"
"You also took a bribe, Kniya," Salesh pointed out smugly.
"You know, that was not a bribe!" Kniya argued passionately, pressing his hand against his chest like a saint. "That was a very different thing! It was for the development of society! And I'm doing that right now! Look at you, Salesh. You were wandering the amusement park. If I am hiring you as an individual, I am hiring an unemployed individual! I am actively increasing the overall employment rate in the country! So yeah, I'm doing great! I'm doing a philanthropic good!"
Malesh squeezed his eyes shut. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, his shoulders physically shaking as he absolutely fought to stop his laughter. The sheer, astronomical stupidity of Kniya calling a billionaire who owned 46% of a global conglomerate an "unemployed individual" just to justify a 50 million credit bribe was breaking Malesh's robotic composure.
The Office Arson
"Okay! This interview finally ends!" Kniya roared, completely exhausted. He pointed at Salesh. "Salesh, you are now the fucking President. Move out of my fucking office! You literally destroyed this vibe!"
Kniya stood up, kicking his chair back and looking around at the shattered wood and blasted ceiling.
"Guards!" Kniya screamed into the hallway. "Or some fucking employee who has not taken a fucking bribe! Please come and fix this fucking shit! And listen to me—now I am not going to sit at a mahogany table anymore! I am going to have a cheap, very cheap table! A very cheap door! And absolutely no chandelier! Only a simple fucking ceiling fan! Nothing else!"
Filoska rubbed her temples, a migraine fully setting in.
"I think so, expensive things always get ruined, and they always make me a huge loss!" Kniya ranted, pacing around the room. "And now I know that both of you idiots are not going to pay for the damages! I literally lost one million credits during this interview just for taking the fucking interview!"
Kniya suddenly stopped pacing. He turned his furious gaze directly onto Malesh.
"And Malesh! Please stand!" Kniya ordered.
Malesh slowly stood up from his leather guest chair, brushing off his trousers. "What?"
"You literally farted this chair out!" Kniya yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the expensive leather seat. "You literally farted in this chair so much today that this chair is not able to work anymore! The structural integrity is compromised!"
Malesh's face went completely dark. His deadpan expression shifted into one of absolute, deadly offense.
"I did not fart," Malesh stated, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly calm register. "You are lying, Kniya. Lying. Lying. Lying."
"I know it was you!" Kniya yelled back.
"How dare you say that," Malesh whispered.
Without breaking eye contact with Kniya, Malesh calmly reached into his trouser pocket. Since he owned the global oil supply, it was only natural that he carried a heavy, silver hip-flask entirely full of high-grade, unrefined petrol.
Malesh unscrewed the cap. He casually splashed the raw petrol all over Kniya's executive chair, and then poured the rest over his own leather guest chair.
"Malesh, what the fuck are you doing?!" Filoska shrieked, backing toward the hallway.
Malesh smoothly pulled a brass matchbook from his pocket, struck a match, and dropped it.
WHOOSH.
Both expensive leather chairs instantly erupted into a massive, roaring pillar of violent orange flames. The heat hit Kniya in the face, illuminating his look of sheer, unadulterated shock.
Malesh adjusted his dragon-themed tie, turned his back on the roaring fire, and calmly stepped out of the office.
"The interview ends," Malesh stated flatly.