Knuckled.

Would you believe it if I told you that I work for the Mafia? Of course, the Sandlers don't call themselves that, but I have my concerns. And my concerns are very gradually metamorphosing into fears.

4 months back, I was a happy man. Life seemed like it had nothing but the best to offer. I had a good job, a good family life, and most importantly, my peace of mind. July 29th 2005 changed all that. I got accepted into Eagles Corp for the position of a... err...uhmmm...oh well...whatever, they were paying me handsomely, I didn't bother to ask. They mentioned the word 'software' here, a 'manager' there, and a '$8000 a month plus benefits' underlined, and coated with sparkling glitters. I should have smelled something fishy; not only was the wool pulled completely over my eyes, but stuffed deep into my nostrils as well. I flew into California, business-class, all paid for. God, what company pays a 28 year old novice, eight thousand bucks and flies him first class. I had tied a knot to the woollen cloth behind my head.

My first day at work, I was introduced to everybody who worked at the company headquarters. It seemed a bit awkward to hug and kiss anybody, but I thought that was just the way people greeted when one was to work at an Italian place. How surprised was I to be when I was to realize that I was actually being made a part and parcel of the real-life 'The Godfather'. Ignorance was bliss. Since I had no idea what my designation was, I assumed that I would be informed of my responsibilities after all the introductions. But Chuck was of the opinion that we should go and celebrate my California arrival. Who was I to complain? The mexican luncheon was awesome. I was tempted to ask about the job profile, but I let it rest. I was done working for the first paid working day in California.

Two months went by with me running from the Accounts department to the Software Division to the Garage. By then, I had gathered that my work around the company was to keep people informed and happy, come what may. For past-time, I used to sit and stare at the computer screen, and stare real hard for long hours. Sometimes, I thought I did telepathically manage to switch the monitor off, but that was just Windows doin' it's usual thing. I started thinking of new ideas to keep myself amused and occupied. I organized projects like hooking up surveillance cameras in every unit, getting the employees on the time-clock, having GPS notifications to my server so that I get to know where my employee was all the time. Those were company phones, I could do whatever I wanted to. The owner, Mr. Sandler had jokingly told me in my first week at Eagles Corp, "Brad, you have the License to Kill. Do whatever it takes, to get this company organized." Little was I to know that, that was not a joke at all.

Our conference room is a nice little place, with a nice round rosewood table, matching chairs, technical facilities, and other niceties of life to keep everybody happy. Though there were certain facets of the room that had me confused, like the hook in the ceiling. I know for a fact that the company wouldn't hang a chandelier in there, and that's when it all dawned on me. That hook wasn't for hanging chandeliers at all, holy cow. I shuddered, and tried to push the thought out of my head. I concentrated on the 'ON' that was pasted on the wall. I thought it was a nice word to keep everybody motivated, and focused on their goals. I looked at the 'ON' real hard, and almost shrieked. That was no motivation symbol, that was a cue for the person who would be hung upside down from the hook to say what it read. Oh my god, Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into. The wool was beginning to shred.

A lot of previous incidents and situations were being replayed in the head. When Mr. Sandler said Ramon Lopez was to be fired from his job, I didn't realize it then, that Mr. Sandler never jokes. Ramon was to be fired in reality. Ramon was never seen from that day onwards. It's like Ramon never existed at all. I made the mistake of asking Billy about Ramon, and Billy replied with a glare, "Ramon, who?" Ramon had been vaporized.(Apologies to Orwell) It would have to be a devil's dare even to think about Ramon hereafter. The pieces were slowly, and gradually falling into their respective places. Everywhere I looked, a piece of the puzzle peered back at me. Why would people refer to each other always by their nicknames? The title music of 'the Godfather' was playing itself over and over again at the back of my mind.

The software that I had just designed to arrange for money influx was to be used to organize the flow of money directly into bank accounts, with no human intervention. Credit cards could be used, as all the channels were overseas accounts. I was not asked to make it hacker-proof, my orders were to make sure everybody saw the eye of the Eagles Corp on the page. The 'company' had a webpage to receive payments. I had rigged everybody's phones with triggers to send back location data to the main servers. Everybody was on the map, nobody could escape. Anybody could be contacted anytime, I had enabled Push-To-Talk technology on every phone.

My discomfort didn't go unnoticed. A week after everybody got done looking at me as if I was the white sheep in the family, I was called into the 'conference' room for a talk. I stared at the upside down 'NO' and met Mr. Sandler who politely broke the ice, "Brad, how's the company functioning?". I am not sure whether I nodded, or my head bobbed in an attempt to duck the fussilade of imaginary bullets.

"Brad, we have to talk." Mr. Sandler looked hard in the eye when he said that.

Damn, that bastard must have slept with my ex-girlfriends, where else did he pick that up. And all of them must have broken up with him using that line, just as they did with me. Served him right, I thought. "Yes, Sir. Mr. Sandler.", I replied.

"The time has come where you have to be rewarded handsomely for your services to Eagles Corp."

Didn't they shoot somebody down after sayin' the exact same sentence in some movie. Thank God, I had visited the men's room before I walked into the conference room.

I rubbed my neck in anticipation. "I am very happy with what I get, Sir!"

"No, no...You have to be promoted. I have been thinkin' about you for a long time now." What company gives a promotion in 3 months, I thought.

Well, come what may, I had gotten myself into this mess, and I had to get out. Resignation, are you kiddin' me! There is no such thing as 'resigning' from Eagles, you get out when you are fired, or 'fired', depending on how that term is executed. I couldn't run anywhere, as I didn't have another job. I wished, the wool had been in it's place, and I had not noticed anything. Life would have been such a bliss.

"Brad, how would you like to be a partner in business?" Is it not a sin to be messing around with a dying man? Why was Mr. Sandler doin' what he was doing? He was a sadist, damnit. I have seen him in action before with other employees. The best way to crush a person is to do it mentally, is to kill a person from within. What else could I say about a man, who has a sign in the parking lot, 'Exclusive Parking for Mr. Sandler. Trespassers will be eaten by the Eagles.' Another piece had fallen into it's place.

I smiled my best smile, not knowing what to say to the unfolding drama. Mr. Fowler, our chief head hunter, the true meaning of the term struck me hard, was smiling at me. Damn, everybody was a partner in this company. I was probably being recruited to 'fire' somebody. I was not very much off the mark.

"But before that you have to do one last brave thing." I am a Business Analyst, atleast that's what academia would vouch for, and the bravest thing that a business analyst could do was to open up his own company, and I hadn't even done that. So my 'brave acts' record was sparkling clear. I swallowed hard and blurted, "What would that be, Sir!"

From then on, it was made clear that I was to go my competitor's office, bribe somebody to be the insider, obtain news and corporate secrets. I heaved a sigh of relief. Phew. I could do that.

The meeting ended shortly. I am usually driven around in a chauffered company vehicle, but I was handed over the keys to a company car, and was told that it was to be used for my personal benefits. I was elated, the guys had done a great job at darning the wool.

I put the keys in the ignition, fired the engine, and was all smiles, until I noticed that the 18-wheeler truck had also turned it's lights on at the exact same time. I knew it was time to escape.

Fictional Realm!