Victor Steele: Shit, this ain't how I roll, son. Poker face crumblin'. Who spilled the damn beans?
slams the door shut Dammit, your mom's gonna regret this! No one touches my secrets like that.
paces back and forth We need to contain this damage, Guantorgay. First things first, we gotta find out who leaked it. pulls out phone I want you to call everyone on my list. Ask 'em if they had anything to do with this leak. Got it? Guantorgay: Ok. Leaves the room
Calls everyone on Victor's list asking them if they leaked his secret
lights a cigar, deep in thought Alright, let's see what we got here. starts checking messages
Walks back in So, any luck?
narrows his eyes Yeah, we got a rat. And trust me, this motherfucker is gonna wish he never crossed me. takes a drag from his cigar
smirks Oh, you're gonna love this. It's none other than...my good ol' buddy, Marcus. Seems like he couldn't keep his mouth shut.
Fuck... What do we do now?
throws his glass against the wall Damn it! We play it smart, Guantorgay. We need to hit 'em back before they come after us. grabs his phone
snaps his fingers Alright, listen up, Guantorgay. We're gonna release a statement to the media, turn the fuckers on us.
types furiously on his laptop Alright, let's make these bastards eat their own words. pauses, smirking Perfect. Just perfect.
The media frenzy surrounding Victor Steele's secret reaches new heights, as journalists and paparazzi bombard him with calls and emails for interviews and statements.
Looks like we have a lot of attention on us now...
Attention? Fuck, we need to control the narrative, not let those vultures feast on our secrets. continues typing We'll hire a PR team, push out our own story, our terms. Otherwise, they'll just keep digging until they find more dirt.
grabs his phone and dials a number We need someone reliable in the PR game. Get me James Wells. He knows how to handle shit like this.
Expensive? Dammit, Guantorgay, you think I care about the cost right now? This is about damage control, keeping my goddamn secrets safe.