A musty air filled the basement of Dunder Mifflin's paper factory - widely referred to as The Annex - as Obscura sat on a dusty stool and observed a spider that crawled across the wall before settling into a corner that the arachnid likely called home.   The Annex had been abused through its history and was a common destination for punishment across Dunder Mifflin's factories but held a special place in Obscura's mind for the quiet and privacy it afforded to the few who ventured there.  

The silence was interrupted by The Annex's stairs squeaking along to rhythmic grunts that grew louder as a tall, burly man finally reached the base of the stairs to a relieved sigh.  The man was simply known as Hamchop - a bodyguard with a history as large as the waistline that Hamchop supported.  He turned ot Obscura, his right hand revealing a briefcase.
 
"How was your trip to the Secretary of State?"

Hamchop growled as he handed Obscura the briefcase, along with a queued number waiting slip as he shook his head in disgust.   Obscura unlocked the briefcase and skimmed through several documents contained inside to verify his bodyguard's work.

"Well done, Hamchop. We have an appointment with that guy - back up the stairs.  We need to be across town soon."

Obscura closed the briefcase and threw it back to his bodyguard as Hamchop eyed the stairs, firing off a tired grunt before following along.

The trip took Hamchop and Obscura to a small road that that cornered to a massive mansion just outside of view - a property that was used for various events, but had recently been associated with criminal undertakings; the de facto head of the city had been silent recently, and rumors spread of an alleged absence, but as Obscura had learned, this was not the case.

The pair arrived at a nondescript white house whose driveway was occupied by two vehicles.  Approaching the door, Obscura lightly knocked on the door before it quickly snapped open and a hurried and hushed voice belonging to one of Dunder Mifflin’s entourage prompted them inside the house.  Led to a small living room, a figure emerged with a monotone voice.

“That will be all.”

Toby Flenderson was an unimposing man who lacked any remarkable or memorable features; a trait that fortunately allowed him to go undetected in the criminal world for years.  Trained in the illustrious career of human resources and law, Toby had the unique ability of summoning some of the most soul-sucking, superfluous legalese that was the stuff of nightmares for Los Angeles’s court system.  As a result of this along with difficult to detect operations across the city, he had consolidated most of Southern California's criminal power for himself.

“So, you’re sure it’s the mansion the block over? Is this it?” Toby asked as he flicked through is notes.

Obscura peered out the window as he checked for passerby.  

“Absolutely positive.  It’ll send a message to the mayor that there’s new business in town, for sure.  It’s time for you to move on to bigger and greater things, Toby - you’re at that age that us in the business like to call ‘Min time’.  Don’t ask for an explanation.  It’s from the old days.  Point is, you’re ready.  You've been ready in spirit - and drug trafficking abilities - for a while now.”

Toby shook his head in agreement before pulling out a large revolver - a gun he had likely checked several times throughout the day in anticipation of this moment.

“Boss, this is a conversation.  A business conversation.  You’re going to need something a little more discreet than that.  We’re not going to need that today - I’m giving you one of mine.” Obscura chimed, to Toby’s raised eyebrow.
 
Obscura removed one of the two Walther PP's  on his person and handed it to his boss - a compact pistol that was just small enough to be hidden almost anywhere.

“Small, fully loaded, automatic, 4 more shots.  You should be in good hands with this.  Hamchop?” Obscura continued, as Toby begrudgingly accepted the pistol and handed his to his bodyguard.  Hamchop grunted in response, and produced a small leg holster from his suit pocket and tossed it to Toby.

“Did you bring the documents?” Toby asked as he caught the holster and examined the pistol lent to him.

“Of course.  Effective today.” Obscura replied, signaling Hamchop’s handover of the briefcase back to his employer.

“Excellent.  I think we’re ready, then.” Toby said matter-of-factly, holstering the pistol to his leg.

Obscura checked his watch before making his way out of the house with Toby.  “Because I arranged this, we’re the only two allowed in.” he reminded his boss.  Toby replied by tossing a set of keys in his direction.

“Figured.  You’re driving.”

The pair entered one of the vehicles as Obscura claimed the wheel and drove a few blocks  down to the towering mansion that would decide Dunder Mifflin’s fate.  The two exited the car with Obscura grabbing the briefcase as they walked to the main entrance that was patrolled by a lone bodyguard, who nodded and allowed passage into the mansion.

“They didn’t even frisk us!” Toby shot at Obscura, irritated.

“Well, if anything goes down, it’ll be our lucky day.” Obscura replied.

Inside, they were greeted by an older man who extended his arm to Toby.

“Flenderson!  Glad we could have this little meeting. See if there’s business to be done.” the old gentleman greeted.  The old man gave a brief nod to Obscura, as Toby was led to a private room to discuss business with the old criminal.  Obscura set the briefcase down and leaned against the wall as he heard muttered conversations.  The voices grew louder, seeming to come to an impasse.   After a brief silence, he heard a voice even louder - the old man’s - before hearing shuffling and a gunshot.  Obscura’s Walther. Followed by three more shots.  

The entrance to the mansion opened as a guard charged in and took view of Obscura, who drew his other gun and fired three shots blankly into his chest - the bodyguard having dropped to the floor in defense of his boss.

The wide, double doors opened quickly as Toby briskly walked out, a gaunt look on his face.

“Disagreement?” Obscura asked.

“Yes.  We have to leave.” Toby said hastily.

Obscura peeked into the room Toby came from and noticed a distinctly dark pool of blood coming from the floor.

“You go.  I have to clean this up so we’re set.” Obscura replied, using his leg to slide the briefcase that he had set on the ground towards Toby.  

Toby lifted the briefcase and quickly opened as his hands shook slightly from the adrenaline of what had just occurred; he thumbed through the list of documents and smiled.

“Articles of incorporation.. feels damn nice to be official.” Toby said, a relieved sigh overcoming him.

“It’s a new era.. and now you’re essentially unchallenged as the Godfather of Los Angeles, as well as the proud official owner of the corporate division of Dunder Mifflin.  But we’re going to have to celebrate later - get out of here and I’ll catch up later tonight.” Obscura replied, checking his watch.  “Also - my gun?”

“Right, right.” Toby quickly handed him his gun and left in a hurry, with the sound of an engine speeding off with a purpose and a prayer.  Obscura waited several seconds before balled his fist and banged it against the wall.

“Boys!”

The bodyguard he had incapacitated earlier rose to his feet as well as well as the old man Toby had come to a disagreement with just moments before, covered in what he could only assume was food coloring and a thickening agent along with several small, undisturbed packs of an elastic material filled with the liquid that he had dropped to the floor.

“You didn’t tell me blanks would hurt that badly, asshole.” the old man growled as he tried and failed to dry his hands of the imitation blood.

“Better than the real thing.” Obscura shrugged, as he produced two thick stacks of cash from each coat pocket and threw them towards each of the two men.   Out of work actors were a dime a dozen in Los Angeles, and the process of staking your claim as Godfather of a city had become more of an administrative formality than the previous bloodbaths that the event had originally been known for, yet some kept the illusion going; some methods more violent than others.  Ross Pelini was the best of a dying area - his golden years behind him, taking what small acting jobs he could to scrape by a living.  With his payout, he had dreams of Broadway in hopes of a final, well-received swan song.  His muse, the bodyguard who had also been shot, would also follow him.

“It might’ve been a song and dance, but it doesn’t matter. He’s had it for a while.  But now it’s official.  As of right now.. he’s the goddamn Godfather of Los Angeles."

-Telkin- had been pacing on the front steps of the HQ awaiting Toby's return in silence. The whole crew knew today was the day, but for security reasons it had been decided there would be only two people going to the meeting - Toby and Obscura. -Telkin- didn't mind, his face was well known and the smoother this went off the better.

After quite some time, Toby returned with a small grin on his face and a twinkle of delight in his eyes. Without having to ask, -Telkin- knew. His boss, his friend...had now obtained the most prestigious rank in This Thing of Ours. The past few weeks had been extremely busy for them, getting Los Angeles up and running, but with the help of BobbyZ and @ChrisVaughn they had made it up to this point without a hitch.

Standing up to greet his friend in a warm embrace, -Telkin- leans in and softly speaks so only Toby can hear,

"Congratulations brother, now the real fun begins..."

Toby congratulations on reaching this rank I look forward to seeing what you can do with the great city of Los Angeles and getting a chance to work with you. You're a stand up guy with a good head on his shoulders and I wish nothing but the best for you my friend, here's to you my friend!

MalcolmReyonolds toasts Toby with some scotch.