Mr. Rossi stared down from his ivory tower. He looked at the peasants gathering at the castle's entrance, chanting for him to come down and face justice. It was laughable. So, so laughable. He wiped his ass with justice for decades. He played in the faces of all those who awaited his appearance. Gone was the legitimate business man, the generous person. It was stripped away continuously, layer by layer, as the months went on. His empire, something that he spent years gathering was breaking apart at the seams. What left was an angry, bitter, tired Italian who needed time he didn't have. He knew the police and his boys wouldn't let the protesters get anywhere near the building, but he couldn't let it go on forever.
He had a glass of rum in his hand. Staring down at the protesters, he got so pissed he chucked the cup, shattering it against the window, spilling the booze and glass everywhere. Not that he cared anymore. He already heard about Yuliana's death. She didn't know how much she told him, but he knew enough. He was next. The Yakuza meeting was held off. The city was just too hot. When he finally kills UV, he needs a vacation to Japan anyway. Ryan stepped in, nervous. "Mr. Rossi…"
Rossi didn't bother to turn, he just continued to stare at the crowd gaining numbers. It was near ten degrees outside, not that they cared much anyway. "What?"
"Coleson called…"
"Fucking Coleson. He has the nerve. What did he say?"
"He wants protection from the mob, the police are losing numbers," She said.
With a scoff, Rossi finally turned. "He can kiss my ass. He's lost his usefulness." He sighed out and approached his desk, feeling its smooth, expensive top. It felt oddly comforting in a time like this. "I lost New York, Ryan. There is no need for you as well."
Ryan looked at her now former boss with shock. "W-Well… Can I ask a question?"
He gestured for her to continue. "Shoot."
"What are you going to do? I mean I hate to rub it in but it looks awful out there. How can you get out of this?"
Rossi didn't answer. He looked at her with a neutral expression. Thoughts raged in his mind on what he could say. What responses he had in store. For as long as he could remember he always had a plan. Always got out of a jam. Bodies piled in the river, him being put on trial even back in the 90s. He always got out. After a few minutes of not talking, he finally opened his mouth. "I will give them something to remember me by. They love UV. So I'm going to kill him personally. When they arrest me, I'll smile knowing I was the one who crushed their spirits. I was the one who stopped this stupid riot. I was the peacemaker. Not him. The myth dies tonight." He stood up, adjusting his suit jacket. "Now go. Use my emergency elevator. This may be the last time we'll see each other. Thank you."
Ryan walked out slowly, pressing the button to summon the personal elevator. Before the door closed, she looked at him. "You've been a great boss."
With that, Ryan was gone. He was alone. Nothing but the chanting in the background for him to hear. Rossi picked up his phone and dialed for his wife. "Lars? I'm worried," She started. "You need to come home."
"I can't," Rossi responded. "I just can't."
"Of course you can. Look, I won't let that crowd or that masked idiot take you away." Joane was attempting to hold back tears. "Come home."
"It won't stop unless I stop it–"
"LARS!" Joane screamed. "Come home! Please!"
"Woman," He said assertively. "Ultraviolence must die tonight."
"He doesn't! You just hate him because you think he made you look bad. I know you Lars. You and that stupid, stupid ego."
As Joane began to cry, Rossi remained firm. "I'll organize a transport. Get you two out of New York. I need to make sure you're safe."
It was easy to tell the fight she had ran out. She knew the inevitable was coming. "Uh-huh…"
"Good. Tell Kaite I love her. She knows what to do if anything happens." He paused for a moment. "I… I love you."
Joane, through sniffs and coughs, managed to squeak out a sentence. "I love you too…"
He hung up. Before organizing the transport, he had one more call to make. He saw the press information on one Summer Armstrong. He was keeping tabs on her ever since UV went public. He dialed the number he got. After a few rings, a shaken but ready Summer answered. "Go for Summer."
"This is Lars Rossi."
Summer didn't speak. After a few rustlings of something in the background, she came back. "You got my number for a reason, let's hear it."
"I want you to post a message. It's for your masked friend."
"Not exactly my friend," Summer corrected. "But I'll post anything news worthy."
"It's news worthy. Trust me." Rossi cleared his throat. She clearly got a recorder ready.
"Ultraviolence. You've caused far more damage poisoning the people against me. It worked. I'm a crook. A criminal. A fucking killer. And that's not right. You're all those things, and you incited a riot. When you look at all those who killed in your name, what will you say? That's why I'm ending it tonight. You want me so bad? Come get me. Nobody will touch you. Just come to Titan Towers, take the elevator to the top floor, and face me. One of us will die tonight. I have way more to lose than you. You have nothing. And you will die with nobody mourning you. See you soon, killer." Rossi hung up.
Finally, he arranged a transport for his family. He was left to stew alone, sitting in his office, ready for the final fight.