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A couple of feet undergound, in what looked, from the outside, like any other run-down Rulandese home, Ânkîs sat in his luxurious sofa, with six of his "friends" sat on similarly luxurious furniture. Ânkîs had never cared much for football, but he, like any other Farf, tuned in for the World Cup. Not to support Farfadillis, though. Just because it was interesting. He didn't care enough about Ruland to hate the team, and he felt no patriotic ties to the team, either. He just thought he wouldn't miss out on the fun of sharing a beer or two, and maybe one or two harder drugs. His friends were avid football fans, though. Two were Mâ Âlâmëómë ultras. The other was quietly a Dí Maozöxê fan. They all went about their business quietly, though. They never let their football allegiance get in the way of their cartel allegiance.
The television on which they'd watch Farfadillis and Valanora face off was gigantic, but that was to be expected. Over the years, Ânkîs had risen through the ranks, and was now essentially second-in-command of one of the biggest cartels in Ruland. At most, five people had more power than him in that wretched land, if you didn't count the footballers. He was barely thirty, so he had a bit of trouble commanding respect, but his fierce personality and his stone-cold killings helped his reputation, which in turn took care of most things.
He'd invited his father Rëwë over to watch the match, but once again he'd turned down the invitation. They hadn't been on speaking terms for years now. His old man had never approved of the way Ânkîs had chosen, in truth. His father was his only terrestrial tie left on this Multiverse, so to speak, so some disappointment did seep into him at first. He quickly shook it off, in much the same way as he shook off the putrid feeling on his stomach after pulling the trigger on an innocent man.
Farfadilis was coming off beating the hosts Starblaydia in a nail-biter which came down to penalty kicks. Despite their typically terrible luck on penalty shoot-outs, Farfadillis had come out on top thanks to the clutchness of Lázár Eleonóra.
"Say, do you have anything interesting to tell us about the players today?" Ënýrs asked his leader.
"I do, as always." Ânkîs grinned. "I told you about Lázár last time around? About how his father's the biggest money launderer in Szoirsia?"
"You did not... actually. You told us about Wìjìnì and Wçêíl's ties to the Burner of Ferdullaele."
"Oh, yeah, that's an interesting tale. It reminds me that I was childhood friends with one of the most dangerous revolutionaries currently alive."
All of his "friends" were too afraid to call him out on his bullshit. His bullshit that wasn't, in fact, bullshit. While none of the six would ever admit they didn't believe a word of his at times, Ânkîs never lied when telling some of his interesting stories. He really did know a lot of people, and Süsâé Wìjìnì and Íkârs Rögníts most of all."
"Süsâé was perhaps the one man that managed to inspire an ounce of respect from me. Who knows, if he'd been my father, maybe I wouldn't be here with you guys. I would've died in some phony terrorist attack in Puerto Farolero or something similarly ridiculous. Or maybe I'd be there!" He pointed at the screen. "Comfortably sitting on the bench, waiting for my time to shine."
There was an awkward silence. Ânkîs engaged in those occasionally. He liked to see whether they'd speak when he wasn't yet finished, though telling if he was finished was always a difficult task.
"But, you know, I don't think that's the story you guys wanna hear today. I have one that directly concerns all of us!" All eyes on the room fixed on him. "It concerns one of Farfadillis' biggest stars, an acquaintance of mine... or, put in better terms, a client."
A couple of eyes went wide.
"You know Täjó Çíânflöné? Big sensation, broken leg, all that noise?" They all nodded. "I dealt to him some pretty special drugs back in the day, when he needed to play well on a trial for Dí Maozöxê."
"What'd you give him?" Güçêlás asked with genuine curiosity.
"It doesn't matter. Let's just say it's a very expensive drug that will get past most antidoping measures, and it increases both physical abilities and mental awareness. It was in my times as a simple dealer, but he bought it off me. It made him easily the best player in Dí Maozöxê's academy."
"How could he afford it?" Güçêlás inquired further.
"He couldn't. Not yet, at least. But Sügâs, our past boss, though he'd be able to pay with something far more valuable than money. You see, it was crystal clear Täjó would be a fantastic footballer, but with that extra boost... he'd become one of the best in the Multiverse. He thought he was getting it for free, but he was actually getting blackmailed with over a decade of anticipation. As you know, Sügâs is dead, so Täjó is now my bitch."
"So he's been this good because of that drug?" Tüý asked, shocked that one of his favorite players was a phony.
"No, no. He only uses it at times. When he really needs to perform. Like, say, against Valanora last World Cup, or, say... against Valanora now." He smiled, his shit-eating grin almost unbearable.
"Think Tíbürçìó will sub him in?"
"Think?" He chuckled. "I'm sure of it! He's in on it! Just watch. You'll see Täjó score a couple, I'm sure."
"Any other juicy names in on it?"
"None, as far as I know. No other player engages on something as high-risk as this. Believe it or not, not everyone is a complete idiot, unlike Täjó."
"What about Wínrôuge?"
Ânkîs laughed. "That's the funniest part. He's in this kind of depression because his cousin is better than him, when in fact he's on this drug pretty fucking often. He's now some weird excuse of a playmaker. A pretty good excuse, don't get me wrong, but nowhere close to what he used to be. I almost feel for the guy, but you guys know I'm bad at feeling things."
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"With just ten minutes to go, Farfadillis are up three-two against Valanora in yet another Southwester Showdown. Somuele der Pros with the ball. He passes to Eleonóra. Lázár with the ball. He dribbles! It's a pass to Wínrôuge. Wínrôuge on the ball. He makes the pause. He lobs it to Çíânflöné! ÇÍÂNFLÖNÉÉÉÉÉÉÉ! GOL! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL! HERO! HERO! HAT-TRICK FOR THE VALANORA-BASED STRIKER! Absolutely stunning performance!"
