With Prejudice

Victor Blackwell's office was a testament to power, its windows offering a sweeping view of Manhattan's glittering skyline. In the world beyond the glass, deals were made and fortunes shifted hands, a ceaseless dance of ambition and influence. But within these walls, all was precise, controlled, every detail meticulously curated to project an aura of unassailable authority.

Leaning back in his leather chair, Victor absently adjusted his cufflinks, his keen gaze scanning the array of financial reports spread across the polished expanse of his desk. Thick binders overflowed with endless columns of figures - projections, sponsorship revenues, media rights deals - the lifeblood of events and products PMG produced reduced to stark black and white. Success, quantified and catalogued with ruthless efficiency.

With a deft flick of his wrist, Victor tapped out a message on his phone and hit send, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

@VBlackwellPMG: "PMG has decided to drop the lawsuit against Logan Drake for breach of contract. We look forward to an exciting announcement coming soon."

"Send Logan the financials from Strike Force Legends," Victor instructed the nervous young assistant hovering by the door, his voice smooth and languid. "The complete reports, unabridged."

Let Logan savor the illusion of victory for now. That was the art of the game - allow your opponent to believe they held the upper hand, to revel in their imagined triumphs, all the while tightening the snare around them. Only when their complacency reached its zenith would you rip away the veil and watch their world crumble.

The assistant shifted uneasily. "Um, sir... what should be omitted?"

Victor arched an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Nothing. He gets it all."

From the corner, Sebastian Greer looked up from his coffee, his interest piqued. "You sure that's wise, Victor? What if he realizes Strike Force was a monster success?"

A low chuckle rumbled in Victor's throat. "Sebastian, trying to parse one of those raw reports is like attempting to decode Genny's moods. The devils in the details, and those details are buried under a mountain of esoteric legalese and intentionally convoluted accounting." 

The assistant, clearly out of their depth, awkwardly cleared their throat. "I'm not sure it's appropriate to joke about--"

Victor and Sebastian's heads swiveled as one, pinning the unfortunate aide with the full weight of their combined focus. The young man wilted under the intensity of their stares, his half-formed objection evaporating on his tongue.

"I'll... just go get those files sent right away." The assistant beat a hasty retreat, all but fleeing down the hall in his haste to escape the painful tension.

"One of these days, that mouth of yours will land you in hot water," Sebastian remarked wryly, shaking his head.

Victor affected a put-upon sigh. "It's a good thing I don't believe in consequences then, isn't it?"

His attention returned to the financial reports, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Let Logan waste hours scouring those endless spreadsheets, hunting for a smoking gun amid the reams of revenue streams and payout tables.  By the time he grasped the scope of what had been hidden in plain sight, buried in the byzantine labyrinth of facts and figures, it would already be too late.

The trap would spring.

And Victor would be waiting, savoring the sweet taste of inevitable victory.