The door to Transistor’s office is kicked open as agents swarm his desk. TheAuditor walks in behind them and slams his briefcase down on the Godfather’s desk

Good morning Mr. Transistor, how are you today. The reason for our visit is you are being audited for fraudulent voting, specifically your Bull Sheet Awards.

Now, we are not here to look into TommyVitale, as all his votes seem to check out as legitimate. However what set off a slew of red flags at our office was the runner-up award being handed to Gillian for her Weekly Gazette. And believe me Mr. Transistor, our firm uses the term “weekly” very, VERY loosely.

We take fraudulent voting extremely seriously, especially when it is identified as what we refer to as “sympathy votes” that most likely do not exist. I can understand why you would want to award this person with a consolation prize as she is clearly a hyper-sensitive type prone to fits. By her own admission, her own Godfather shelters her from inner-city conflicts to “keep her calm”. This in itself is fine, but should not be rewarded. Especially with fraudulent votes.

Our firm just finds it odd that somehow all Gillian’s votes (exactly one less than TommyVitale according to yourself ) were all sent privately with nobody except for yourself to see, while others voted publicly. Her paper has no buzz expect for being called out for being late, and while all the other papers have published multiple papers, her issue count sits stagnant at a measly one. Sure there were other newspapers that only released a single edition, but that is because Gillian either killed them herself or had them killed to bolster her own newspaper’s rating. Yet you sit here and want the good people to believe that a weekly newspaper that comes out monthly (if that), full of “NOT” jokes, came in second place over the Saddle Newsflash? Yeah, I think this requires an audit. Follow the money, follow the trail of raviolis. They all lead back to Gillian

Had you said she was in 2nd place by tallying tips, we would not be here today. Her tips were not quite where Tommy’s were, but very close. We call these “sympathy tips”, which while disgusting, would not warrant an audit. We are just here for the voting ballots.

We will require that you provide the votes for the “weekly” Gazette. Please include timestamps. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner we’ll be out of your hair. In the meantime though, we’ll need to set up here in your office. Please wait outside in the hallway until we’ve concluded our investigation, Mr. Transistor. Thank you.

Warmonger and Transistor were smack-ass in the middle of a conversation when the door flies open and in comes a bunch of agents with the saddest equipment he'd ever seen. He was sure their guns had little orange tips on them and their 'vests' were actually just an extra couple shirts stuffed beneath their coats.

Transistor rolls his eyes.

A young man slams his briefcase on Transistor's desk. It rattles the beautiful vase of flowers on the corner and a cigar begins to roll toward the edge of the desk from the vibration.

Transistor stops the cigar from falling by pinching it between his thumb and index finger.

Transistor listens to the small statured man, and checks his badge. Protected by The Commission of course, for another 23 hours.

I don't like having my conversations interrupted. So I'll make this short and sweet.

Transistor removes a file folder from the side drawer of his desk.

You'll find all the votes are in order.

To: Transistor
From: Redacted
Sent: Feb 16, '24 02:46
Subject:

I vote for gillian

To: Transistor
From: Redacted
Sent: Feb 16, '24 02:46
Subject: Gillian

My vote is for Gillian and The Weekly Gazette

These private votes plus the public ones during the ceremony itself should be enough to satiate your appetite for information.

I should also mention there was no consolation prize for runners up, so you'll find the opportunity for corruption was just not present. The Bull Sheet Awards' founder Red Bull (GRHS) did not believe in second place.

Transistor sits down in his chair calmly.

Warmonger's attention is grabbed by the shaking of the vase, distracting him from the spew of shit coming from the confused civilian. Does he know where the fuck he is..? Who the fuck he's talking to? Who bought them fucking flowers he just haphazardly threatened? This crazy bastard has no respect for life, not even his own.

The Frequency Capo rises to his feet and turns to face the... 'auditor'. He smirks as he shoves the youngster's chest, knocking him back a few steps.

"Listen here, you little shit. Godfather Transistor has been far more patient and understanding than you deserve. Now I suggest you get the fuck out of here before your protection runs out and I paint the walls with what little brains you have."

Warmonger stares intently at TheAuditor.

"One more thing... If you ever decide to storm in here again, you better bring a real fucking army. Now get the fuck out."

You heard the man.

Motions toward the door.

Gladius, right hand to Don Alexa, was hanging out in the Frequency HQ. He had some things to discus with Transistor and Warmonger. He had intended on being on time to the meeting, but his favorite courtesan just happened to be in the building as well, and Gladius found himself quite distracted. When he had finished up his business with his...umm...friend, he was walking down the hall towards Transistor 's office.

Before he could get there, however, he heard a loud commotion at the front door that proceeded towards the office, his own destination. He noticed a horde of men, if you could call them that, in cheap "suits" and plastic looking badges. He followed the crowd to the office, shoving people to the side as he pleased. They didn't look like they'd put up much of a fight, these tiny men. 

He pushed through just in time to hear Warmonger demand their departure. Gladius was a large man, and found himself standing right behind TheAuditor. He didn't seem to want to leave, despite being told. Gladius was prepared to take matters into his own hands.

"Did you need some help finding the front door...friend?"

TheAuditor holds his bare left hand up to Godfather Transistor

Mr. Transistor do you see a wedding ring on this finger? Nope. It’s because I’m married to the job. And I’ve got three ex-wives that will attest, I take my job very seriously. Sure, my suit is cheap. I’m a lowly civil servant with crippling alimony checks due regularly. And trust me, these alimony checks ain’t the Weekly Gazette. When the courts put a deadline out there, they mean it.

Anywho, I would like to thank you for getting me the documents I demanded to me in a timely fashion. Your cooperation will be noted in my report and will go a long way. Unfortunately, by you redacting Gillian’s name from the voting ballots she casted for her own paper, this has only served to make the waters even murkier. I’d like to look deeper into this, but I see your hired goons are here to impede my investigation. Typical mobster intimidation bullshit. 

Be that as it may, I will be closing this case and will let you get back to your affairs

TheAuditor slams a rubber stamp down on his file that reads CASE CLOSED: INCONCLUSIVE

Good day to you gentlemen. I will now take my leave and get myself a coffee from one of your fine local establishments. The Weekly Gazette is due out today, maybe I’ll pick up a copy and see what all the fuss is about

TheAuditor tips his hat to the men and heads to the newstand. He leaves the newstand empty-handed and disappointed 

Transistor listens to the man begin to speak and raises his hand slightly to attempt to encourage Warmonger and Gladius to be calm for a moment. As he turns to leave, he responds in kind.

As a favor to you, I will inform you that Gillian did not vote for herself or anyone else. The Bull Sheet Awards are very distinct about what information can be shared with outside sources as the votes themselves have led to an incredible amount of intimidation and violence in the past; so the motion was adopted to keep voters secret if they wish to be.

Now: Should you return with a warrant for that information? As a legitimate businessman I, of course, would abide but I must let you know that the identity of the people's names you seek are those who are very powerful and may not take kindly to the act. There's not much I can do to help you if they take exception to such activity.

But, you are the agent here, so I would be inclined to trust your judgement.

Transistor motions to his bodyguard Niko and then to TheAuditor.

Niko please make sure this gentleman and his bucket of plastic soldiers make it to the front door safely.

Warmonger spins to rest against the desk and follow the man out with his eyes, plucking a flower from the vase beside him to hold, like a comfort blanket.

He waves the daisy in the air with a cheeky grin slapped across his snout as 'TheAuditor' makes his exit.

"Peace and love, dude..."