Scarface
Disclaimer: Depends on the offer...
Prologue
Riki: Say, Katze, how did you get that scar?
Katze (grimly): Cut myself when shaving.
Half empty dark room. The only source of light is the monitor, with Katze playing Tetris.
Katze (successfully completing combination): Voilà!
Before he knew it the Consul bursts into the room, waving with something that looks like a modernized sharpened metal bar.
Katze (stunned): Huh?
Iason (in rage): I got you! Did you really think you could've done it behind my back and stay unpunished?!
Katz (sinking into his chair, cautiously): Actually, there was a thought.
The Consul freezes for a moment, taken aback by such insolence.
Katze (hastily): I didn't know Tetris was prohibited by law!
Iason (unfreezing): Tetris? (Looks at the monitor.) And... and where are the X-Files of Tanagura?
Katze: What files?
Iason (not so sure): I know everything. Denial is pointless.
Katze obediently keeps silence.
Iason (somewhat disappointed): Just played Tetris? Really?
Katze (willingly): And laid out solitaire.
The Consul flops into a chair.
Iason (clutching his head): That's definitely not my day! The deal with the Federals failed, Raul was bitten by guinea pigs, Jupiter gave me an electric shock, the secret database was hacked...
Katze (leaning forward worriedly): Is Mr. Am alright?
Iason (shrugging, absentmindedly): Bet he's fine. (Dolefully.) I am the most miserable... (swings the sharpened metal bar pompously) ...
Katze (holding his cheek): Ouch!
The Consul turns to his bending furniture.
Iason (in anguish): And as if it's not enough - the new furniture is spoiled!
Katze (through gritted teeth): My condolences, Iason-sama.
Iason (hesitantly): Perhaps I should give you first aid.
The Consul raises his hand - the furniture instinctively ducks even lower.
Iason (patting Katze on the back): Well, well, well... (considering his duty done.) Well, I think you can take care of it from here yourself. (Gets up and walks to the door.)
Katz (still holding his cheek, mumbling): Yeah, "First aid" my ass…
Iason (by the door, looking back): Oh, and if someone asks, it's such a special scarification - a pink of fashion and utterly exclusive.
Katze (through gritted teeth): I got it, Iason-sama.
The Consul nods imperially and leaves. Katze applies a compress to his cheek and gets back to the computer.
Katze (running his own hacking program, with a grudge): The X-Files, you say? Thanks for the idea. (Clicks fast on the keyboard.) Well, well, well… and what might we have here for a password?..
The Consul's office. Iason is in front of the monitor that shows Katze's room.
Iason (watching tensely the manipulation of his furniture): Come on, come on… you can do it, I know you can…
Half an hour later.
Katze (triumphantly): Gotcha!
Iason (relieved): Gotcha! (Quickly saves the data.)
The furniture and the Consul synchronously lean back in their chairs. Katze lights a cigarette, Jason opens a bottle of wine.
Katze (puffing): And how much will the outsiders shell out for that, I wonder?..
Iason (taking a sip): Phew!.. I would've been fried if they knew I'd lost the password! Good thing I have Katze. (Looks thoughtfully at the monitor where the unwitting furniture is relaxing, blowing smoke rings.) Damn, such a specie… er, talent to waste! It's absolutely a must to put him in natural environment...
Epilogue
Riki: Say, Katze, how did you get to the Black Market?
Katze (grimly): Weal of woe ...
© Mad Sophie