[ WP ] Everyone knew what would soon happen in that room . Everyone , save for one man .

The tension was palpable. Assassins, mercenaries and drug lords sat arrayed around a circular table. Every shadowy organisation or criminal empire in the world sat beneath a temporary truce. A truce that was, as fate would have it, about to break. Violence was imminent and they all knew it. All of them, that was, save one. 
 
 `` Alright then, Shinoda-sama.'' The man quickly signed his signature across the last sheet before closing the heavy binder. He slid it across the table with a polite smile. `` Everything looks to be in order but why do n't you take some time to review it while I handle Mister Mikhailov's request.'' The ageing Yakuza *oyabun* nodded silently as one of his *kobun* quickly snatched the paperwork up. 
 
 `` Is it really necessary for us all to be here?'' Sergei was as large as a bear and certainly as grouchy as one. His heavy Russian accent made it difficult to discern his words but the the man simply smoothed down his tie with a disapproving look. 
 
 `` Mister Mikhailov, you insisted on being seen today.'' The admonishment was softly spoken and he continued even as his client blustered in denial. `` Because you changed the timetable, everyone else demanded to be seen as well.'' The assorted underworld figures eyed each other nervously. `` I can not understand for the life of me why you all needed your taxes done right this second but I am doing my best to accommodate.'' His worry lines deepened and for a moment, everyone sat back with silent concern. `` Are my efforts unsatisfactory?'' He asked quietly, clicking his titanium pen idly. 
 
 `` Niet, Тедди. No offence intended.'' The Vory Pakhan assured slowly, hands raised in a placating gesture. `` I am just busy man.'' He stated weakly, gaining murmurs of support from his Bratok. 
 
 `` We're all busy people, comrade.'' Jeered a man dressed in modified BDU. He sat with two men flanking him, both dressed in sleek uniforms. `` Some of us actually have legitimate businesses to run.'' His subordinates chuckled at the jab. 
 
 `` Nayemnik ublyudku!'' Sergei roared and slammed his hands on the table. The room bristled as hands fell to knives and pistols, concealed away beneath vests and suit jackets. 
 
 `` Gentlemen, gentlemen!'' Their host clapped his hands together loudly. `` What is going on with all of you today?'' He asked in confusion. Pushing his spectacles further up his nose, the man regarded them all in disappointment. `` Each of you are typically exemplary clients. I can not understand why you are acting so unruly now.'' He sighed and ran a hand across his head, feeling the receding hair with a forlorn thought. `` I will attend to your finances with all haste. Until then, I expect each of you to act with basic human courtesy.'' 
 
 The most dangerous members of planet Earth's underworld exchanged suspicious glares and muttered beneath their collective breath but they acquiesced reluctantly. As the room returned to a semblance of civility, their host smiled genteelly. Who was this man that he could command such an assortment of bad guys and villains? 
 
 His name was Ted. He was an accountant.
