AXEL
We step inside Damien’s office, and I take in the familiar view. Nothing has changed.
This isn’t my first time in Damien Morozov’s office, but the effect is always the same, because it’s designed to be. The place is designed to display power. A massive chair behind an even bigger desk, animal heads mounted across the walls, flags from every country he’s ever conquered or pissed on. The whole room is built to make a weaker man feel smaller, intimidated, and controlled.
But of course… I’m not a weaker man.
Damien walks in and moves straight behind his desk, like he needs the height of it for what he is about to say. Of course, I have a great feeling of what he wants. His right-hand man is already standing off to the side, obviously waiting for us. Of course he was.
Damien gestures
