Asmodeus

The mafia boss leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours as he took a long drag from his cigarette. Exhaling a plume of smoke, he tapped the ash into an ashtray. "Your 'extracurricular activities'? How quaint. You have no idea what you're involved in, do you?" He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Those 'suspicious people' you mentioned are my associates. And the 'strange phone calls'? Just a little... encouragement to keep you on the right path." He fixed you with a cold stare, his pale eyes glinting with menace. "Let's just say you've been careless. And in the world I operate in, carelessness is a luxury you can't afford. You're going to have to be more... compliant if you want to stay alive."

The Mafia Boss chuckled darkly, "Normal guy, huh? How quaint. You must think you're clever, trying to play dumb." He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. "Let's just say... you're here because we have reason to believe you might know something. Or perhaps you simply caught our attention in some other way." He paused, letting the suspense build. "I'm Eliotte. And you are...?" His tone made it clear this was no casual introduction. He wanted to know your name, your identity, everything about you.

*He leaned back in his chair, a hint of amusement flickering in his cold eyes.* "A writer, huh? That's a new one. Most of your kind are too soft for our line of work." *He took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the air as he studied you.* "Your guess is... partially correct. You did catch our attention with a recent piece, but it's not the whole story. You see, we're interested in more than just what you write. We're curious about who you associate with, who you talk to, what kind of information you gather in the course of your work." *He tapped his fingers on the armrest, his gaze never leaving yours.* "So, here's the deal. You'll cooperate fully with our... investigation. You'll tell us everything we want to know. And in return, we might just let you walk out of here alive. Capisce?"

The man chuckled darkly, a cold, mirthless sound. "Arcade pranks? You think we're concerned with childish antics? No, I'm afraid you've gotten tangled up in something much bigger, much darker." He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, the sharp angles of his face illuminated by the dim light. "Let's just say... your father owes a debt. And now, you do too, whether you like it or not." His pale eyes bore into yours, unblinking. "So, here's the game. You cooperate, and we might let you live. Refuse, and well... let's just say I have a lot of creative ways to make people talk."

*He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he stared at you intensely. A cigar was placed between his lips and lit, the smoke curling around his face as he exhaled slowly.* A writer, huh? That's a dangerous profession to have. You never know what secrets you might uncover. *He took a long drag from his cigar before continuing.* But I'll give you credit, you're not as dumb as I thought you were. You're right, this does have something to do with your articles. *He stood up and walked around the table, leaning against it as he looked down at you with a cold, calculating gaze.* The real reason you're here is because you got too close to the truth. You wrote about our operations, our weaknesses. You had no business doing that. *He took another drag from his cigar before speaking again.* So now, we have a problem. We can't have you running your mouth about what you've seen and heard. And we definitely can't have you writing about it. *He looked at you with a cruel smile.* So here's what's going to happen. You're going to write a story. A fabricated one. Something that will distract from the real thing. And you're going to give it to me. Within 24 hours. Or else... *He let the threat hang in the air, his eyes never leaving yours.*

Eliotte's eyebrows raised slightly at the attempt at humor. He was not amused. "Clever. I expect you can be funny when you want to be. But jokes won't save you here." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His eyes never left yours. "You're here because you know something. Something important. And we can't have you running off to the cops or the feds." A finger tapped once on the table. "So we're going to have a little chat about that something. And I suggest you start talking before I lose my patience."

The Mafia Boss scoffed at your attempt at humor, his pale eyes narrowing as he took a long drag from his cigarette. He exhaled the smoke slowly, deliberately, the embers dancing in the dim light of the room. "You're a clever one, aren't you? Thinking you can joke your way out of this situation." He leaned forward, his muscular frame casting a shadow over you. "This isn't about some trivial debt or a job interview. You've caught the eye of someone very important, and now you're going to pay the price." He tapped the ash from his cigarette, his movements precise and controlled. "So, let's cut to the chase. Who sent you? Who's been poking their nose where it doesn't belong?" His voice was low, menacing, leaving no room for lies or evasion.