"Stupid table!"

Monotoli grit his teeth and jerked his knee up toward the horizontal stick, as if trying to break it in two. He stopped short, glancing warily at the glowering attendant in the corner of the dimly lit pool hall, and his expression quickly softened to a weak smile through squinted eyelids. The old man exhaled, placing the wider end of the stick against the ground and leaning on it, as if his poor performance had left him with little strength. Monotoli looked at the surface of the pool table.

The stale air of the stifling hall mingled with the unforgiving heat of the single ceiling lamp overhead, growing beads of sweat upon Monotoli's brow. He surveyed the remaining balls on the table -- Two and Nine. In the game of Nine Ball, the object was to sink the Nine at any point in the game for an automatic win, but the former Fourside Mayor had been suffering from a string of bad luck. He lowered the stick to the cushion, leaning his weight into it, and with a single, powerful thrust, sent the White ball roaring across the green felt field. It collided with the Two, sending the Blue ball in a haphazard direction -- nowhere near Monotoli's intent. He let out a howl of frustration and smacked the end of his stick against the table. A hand lanced out and gripped his left shoulder firmly.

Monotoli jumped and tensed. He turned slowly, expecting the imposing attendant to be at his back, gold nose ring and hairless head glistening in the dim light. Letting out a weak cry of surprise, the aged man turned to face what he felt would be his end -- and instead, he was greeted by a very peculiar, stocky little man in a grey trench coat and bowler hat.

"Take your time." Escaped a pair of thin, pallid lips. A delicate hand knocked away the brim of the hat to reveal a pair of tiny, squinting eyes that seemed to sink into the recesses of the man's face. A disarming smile graced his features. "Here." The new arrival stepped past Monotoli and raised a cane he had with him, pointing with it to a spot on the Blue Two Ball slightly to the left. "Aim here and hit it as hard as you can."

Monotoli frowned, and with a shrug placed himself as the man told him. Taking careful aim, he let off a shot that sent the White ball off at blinding velocity, colliding with the Two. The Two banked off the side of the table and clacked into the Nine, which had been offset slightly to the side. The Object of the game rolled a few inches and dropped neatly into the corner pocket. Monotoli raised two bushy eyebrows, weathered with age. "Well I'll be..."

The man's hand returned to his shoulder. "Don't be. Pool's like anything in the world -- all you need is timing, placement, and a little power. Do you catch my meaning?"

Monotoli turned to his now-grinning companion, eyeing him suspiciously through narrowed eyelids. "So what can I do for you?"

"You are truly a strange little man." An uncomfortable pause followed, as if the stranger was content to leave it at that. "No, my good fellow, it's what I can do for you. Come, have a drink with me." He motioned to a booth in the corner of the hall, grabbing Monotoli roughly by the arm and dragging him along.

"So, what do you take?"

"Just some water, thanks."

"Water? That's pretty ordinary. A man such as yourself should indulge in the high points of life, don't you agree, Geldegarde?"

Monotoli nearly jumped once more. "Where do you get off calling me by my first name, huh?" He dug his nails into the edges of the wooden table.

His companion merely chuckled, low and gutturally. "Relax, relax. You'll get your water." Monotoli's new companion snapped his fingers and the surly attendant of the hall rose from his stool, moved to the bar, and poured a glass of water. Striding across the pool hall, he delivered it to the former Mayor with little more than a groan of discontent. Monotoli noticed his eyes, and noticed that they weren't there. He shuddered but tried not to pay it any more attention than he had -- perhaps it was the light playing tricks on him. He turned to the stranger once more.

The odd little man leaned himself on the table and stared into Monotoli intently. "Personally, I think water is a horrid thing. So much of it, but so little is worth anything. Did you know that only three percent of this planet's water is fresh? And of that, two thirds of it is in glaciers. That means that only one percent of the water on Earth is drinkable. And what do you do? You dirty it, you relieve yourself in it, and then you renew it to drink it. Disgusting if you ask me." The stranger glared across the table.

"You don't say..." Monotoli grimaced and gently pushed the glass away. The man across the table smiled.

"A wise decision." He folded his hands. "Now, I'm afraid I've yet to introduce myself. Forgive me. My name is Victor...Victor Warren. And you...are Mayor Geldegarde Monotoli, am I not correct?"

"Was...Mayor." Montoli's face dropped and he looked at his hands, which were furiously picking at the splinters of the wooden table. "Haven't been Mayor ever since the...incident. Popular opinion just seemed to sink after a while. But for a while...yeah." A smile returned to his face, and his eyes seemed to take on a distant sheen. "For a while, I was the man on top of everything."

"Was it because of the statue?"

Monotoli rose to his feet and knocked the glass of water off the table in the process. The glass shattered against the cement floor, crystal shards speckling the darkness with reflectivity. Monotoli stood rooted to his spot, hands planted firmly against the edges of the table, knuckles white. His companion on the other end merely kept his composure, the end of his cane solid on the ground, fingers wrapped around the handle. He removed one hand briefly to tip his bowler up, at the same time gesturing calmly for the former Mayor to sit down again. The elderly gentleman did so, took a deep breath, and managed to growl out a few words.

"How did you know about that?"

"Believe me, we know many things, Geldegarde."

"We?"

"I'm sorry, I'm being a little too enigmatic about all of this." Victor Warren reached into his trench coat and removed a small printed card. He reached across the table and handed it to the former Mayor. "I represent the Grey Party. We're looking for a candidate to run in the next election. Someone with name recognition. You're just the guy."

Monotoli weighed the card in one hand, favoring it with a brief glance. A peculiar logo next to Warren's name caught his eye, but he didn't give it much thought, and returned his gaze to the man across the table. "Grey Party, eh? Never heard of you."

"That's because we're a small, independent party. We've only recently begun campaigning in the past few years, though not with much success. I'm sure, however, that you're our man. The man who will put the party into office. And, I'm sure, you'll find our platform very...enticing."

"Oh yeah? And what could you possibly offer an old man like me?"

"Think about the pool game. Timing, placement, and power. You show the pool balls some power and they'll go right into the pockets. Show the masses some power...and they'll follow you through the gates of Hell. The election's the time, Geldegarde, and the Grey Party is the place. We can give you the power."

"Power over what?"

"Power over the city again."

Monotoli felt an aching chill through his bones as Warren uttered the words. His eyes once again adopted a faraway gaze as he recalled that time -- nearly five years ago -- when he had control over every corner of Fourside. It was as if he possessed a series of inescapable tendrils that ran deep into the city's foundations and suffocated the very principles upon which it was built. Nothing more than another of the statue's illusions, he once thought...and yet, Warren's sunken gaze seemed to hold more power than any golden devil. Geldegarde Monotoli nodded resolutely.

"All right, I'm listening."