The balding, slightly overweight middle aged man paced restlessly around the room, glaring accusingly at the muted television alternating between news footage of himself or his company. It didn't seem to matter which station he chose to watch, he and his company were all that everyone was talking about. It wasn't much better with the newspapers and magazines. The circus had come to town and he was the head lining act. It was almost unbearable to watch, but he found that he was unable to look away from his waking nightmare. He wanted to know what the rest of the world was saying about him, hoping to find a sympathetic voice amongst the outrage. This was becoming less and less likely however. With a snarl, he snatched up the remote, turned the television off and flung the remote back down on the couch again. He continued to pace up and down the room. Then with a resigned sigh, he picked the remote up again and turned the tv back on. He'd lost count how many times he had done that since the whole mess had begun. Too many times.

It wasn't meant to happen like this. 

Actually, this was exactly how it was meant to happen. It just wasn't meant to be happening so soon; it'd only been a couple of months since he resigned from the company. He could, and knew that he would be, held accountable for everything that was happening. The company's collapse wasn't supposed to happen for at least another twelve months. After that time he'd have been able to claim innocence, and that the company's problems were due to the incompetence of his succesor. That was going to be a lot harder now. His lawyers had even said this was impossible. But he was still determined to insist that this was in fact the case. 

He now realised that he'd been niave in thinking that no one would come forward to blow the whistle on the practises within the company. He had assumed that everyone in a position to know about the less than legal practises of the company were also guilty of some kind of corporate crime themselves. Or had been intimidated into remaining silent. He'd been counting on everyone sense of self perseverance. He hadn't counted on someone having enough morals and courage to come forward and expose everything. 

That's what had surprised him most about all this. That the woman had come forward to expose everything even though she could've ended up facing jail time herself. He'd been so enraged by this that he had seriously considered having her killed. But his lawyers had talked him out of this, saying that it would look bad. Not to mention highly suspicious. They told him that he would have to settle with flinging as much mud at her as he could. And hoping that she was found guilty of one of the many crimes currently being investigated and prosecuted. 

This wasn't very satisfying. 

The collapse of the company was happening too soon, and it wouldn't take much searching to see his role in it all. That crucial buffer of time wasn't there to protect him as planned. He looked over at the pile of papers covering the couch and coffee table. He was sure that he would be able to find something in there that would help clear his name. But there was just so much to go through. Too much for him to go through alone. He had organised for his lawyers to come around and help him in two days time. But the annoying thing about his lawyers was that they seemed to be unwilling to notice anything that would help him plead his innocence. He glared at the papers, seriously considering hiring new lawyers. Except he already had the best lawyers money could buy. 

There was a knock at the door, drawing him out of his reverie. He was somewhat startled to find himself glaring at his own reflection in the window, his arms crossed across his chest. He couldn't remember looking away from the papers and crossing the room to the window. The man staring back at him from the glass had the strained look of someone under a lot of stress. But there was a confidence in his eyes that clearly showed he was sure that everything would work out for the best for him in the end. The person at the door knocked again. A little more impatiently this time. Then there was the sound of the locks sliding. A moment later the door swung open and two men casually strode through. The shorter of the two closed the door carefully behind them, making sure to also lock the door as well. “We don't want anyone disturbin' us, do we?”

“What the?” The man spluttered incoherently, angry at the intrusion, hardly able to believe the audaciousness of the pair. It then occurred to him that these two may have a sinister reason to be visiting him and not wanting anyone else disturbing them. He carried no delusions when it came to his own physical strength; if it came down to it, he was no match for the pair of them. He looked them both up at down, looking for any sign of weapons. They were both dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts. There was nothing about these two that would cause them to stand out in a crowd. The shorter of the two was dressed in a tight fitting grey t-shirt. His face was obscured by a pair of dark sunglasses and a UCLA baseball cap. His companion was equally as non descript in a dark polo t-shirt with the collar popped up. His face was also concealed by a pair of sunglasses and a Bruins baseball cap. Even though they appeared to be unarmed there was something about these two men that scared the man. 

“You're in a lot of trouble, buddy.” The taller newcomer said demurely. He and his companion seated themselves at the table. The tall man waved his hand casually at the pile of newspapers and magazines that had accumulated in the room ever since the company's troubles were made public. “A lot of trouble.” 

“I'm innocent.” He snapped. “Anyway, who are you?” It was an old habit, but he liked to know who he was dealing with. It gave him a sense of control and allowed him to steer the conversation the way he wanted. 

Both men at the table laughed. “You can call me Chip.” The man in the Bruins cap chuckled. “My friend is Jet.” 

“Ya can say ya innocent as much as you want. That doesn't change the fact that you're in a lot of trouble, pal.” Jet grinned, idly leafing through a pile of paperwork that had been stacked on the table. “Ya goin' to end up broke and in jail.” 

“You'll be killed if you go to jail.” Chip pointed out. “You hurt a lot of families of the people in there.” 

“The guards won't let that happen.” 

Once again, both men laughed. “Man, this guy is a hoot!” Jet guffawed. 

“The inmates aren't the only ones with family whose lives were ruined by you and your company. I wouldn't count on the guards' protection.” Chip pointed out, noticing the man's look of bewilderment. 

“They'll probably kill ya before the inmates even get a chance.” 

Both the men were looking at him. There was something predatory about them now, which made him uncomfortable. He knew the look well, having so often looked at people like that himself. It was a little unnerving to be experiencing it for the first time in his life when he was so used to being the predator not the prey. Although he was beginning to realise that these two men weren't going to kill him. They would've already done so instead of talking to him. They wanted something from him. 

“What do you want?” 

“A deal. A simple deal.” Chip smiled. 

“And what makes you think I'll even consider it?” 

“Because without it ya a dead man walking.” That was a valid point. He had hoped that they wouldn't point that out. He didn't need reminding of his situation. Especially while he was trying to negoiate a deal. It was also really unpleasant to think about, and was something he'd sucessfully been avoiding so far. 

“It really is very simple. It requires nothing from you at all.” 

“What is it?” He asked suspiciously. This sounded too easy. Too trap like. What Chip had just said to him was a line he had frequently used himself when he was conning people out of their money. This deal Chip and Jet were about to offer him wasn't going to be good for him. It was likely to end up landing him being found guilty and sent to jail. 

“We just want you to always have a can of Diet Coke on the table with you at the hearing.” 

The man blinked and stared at Chip and Jet in surprise for a minute. This was the last thing he'd been expecting. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. But he was still having trouble registering what he had just heard. “What?” He managed to spit out several moments later. He still wasn't sure that he had heard Chip correctly. 

“Always have a can of Diet Coke with you at all times during your hearing.” Chip repeated. 

“Oh, and make sure that the label is always facin' the camera. That's important.” Jet added. 

He stared at the pair for a second. “Product placement? You want me to do product placement for Coca-Cola? Why would I even consider doing that?” 

“You do that, and we'll make sure that your punishment is far less severe than it should be.” 

“Hell, because we like the way ya operate, we'll even make sure that ya remain wealthy after all of this.” 

“And the Coca-Cola company has the power to do all this?” 

Once again, both Chip and Jet laughed. “Oh, we're not Coca-Cola. We're much, much higher than that.” 

“Then why do you want me to have Diet Coke with me at the hearing?” 

“Most people think that only fat, overweight trashy slobs drink diet coke. We want to change that perception.” 

“As a successful high flier ya the perfect person to represent that it's not just trailer trash drinkin' Diet Coke. The wealthy also drink Diet Coke.” 

“Won't the fact that I'm being charged with corporate fraud be a bad thing?” 

“The fact that you're a corporate criminal is irrelevant. People will see you drinking the Diet Coke at the hearing and that'll be enough to convince them that they should also drink Diet Coke.” 

“Ya addin' much needed prestige to the Diet Coke image.” 

“But why Diet Coke?” 

The two men at the table looked at each other for a split second before rising to their feet. “We've told you everything you need to know.” Chip said, turning and walking towards the door. “It's now up to you whether you accept our help.” 

“Hang on, wait!” The man called out as Jet unlocked his front door. “Don't you want me to sign anything to confirm this deal?” 

“And leave a trail? Nope. We'll be watchin' what ya do. It's up to ya now, buddy.” A second later the door slammed closed behind them, leaving the man alone with his thoughts once more. And he now had a lot to think about.