Several old Auror looked at the document and looked at each other, their eyes full of shock and suspicion.
Pist enjoys this feeling of being in control of the overall situation.
He cleared his throat and acted like a commander:
"As for the Bigfoot Gang mutation you mentioned, there is no need to activate any plan. It is a legal security clearance operation being carried out by Vought International. All Auror dispatched in the ministry are notified to withdraw. No one is allowed to interfere with Vought International's affairs."
"What nonsense are you talking about!"
Thomas slapped his hand on the table angrily, "That's the gang! They turned into monsters and are running around. If not stopped, the entire New York will fall into panic. The responsibility of our department is..."
"Your duty is to obey orders!"
Pist stood up suddenly and raised his voice,
"Times have changed, Thomas! Now is the era of capital and power, and Wizarding World's approach has long ceased to work! Vought International has promised to provide generous financial support to the ministry. As long as we cooperate with their actions, everyone can live a good life!"
Thomas was shaking with anger and pointed at Pist's nose:
"You... you are a traitor who is seeking glory! What do you think Magic Security Department is?"
Just when these old Auror were about to forcibly detain Pist, there was suddenly a heavy and neat sound of leather shoes outside the office.
Then, four burly and deformed men in black suits walked in.
The muscles on their bodies stretched their suits tightly, and some abnormal dark blue blood vessels could be faintly seen on their necks. Their eyes were as cold as looking at a dead person.
Surrounded by these four bodyguards, a polite-looking Vought International executive wearing gold-rimmed glasses walked into the office.
Pist As soon as he saw this formation, he immediately put on a flattering smile and walked around the desk to greet him.
"Hello, my name is Pist. I have signed the letter of intent..."
The executive with gold-rimmed glasses didn't even look at Pist's outstretched hand. He just waved his hand in disgust.
The four bodyguards immediately stepped forward and picked up Thomas and several other old Auror like chickens. They threw them out of the office mercilessly and slammed the door.
The office suddenly became quiet.
Pist retracted his hand in embarrassment, but he still remained respectful in front of the sponsor:
"Sir, are you here today to handle the official entry procedures for senior executives of Vought? Is my independent office in Manhattan or..."
"You may have misunderstood something, Mr. Pist."
The executive walked to the mahogany desk, swept the pile of parchment on it to the floor, then took out a thick document from his briefcase and slammed it on the table.
"Vought International never raises idle people, let alone a loser who betrays his boss to occupy a high-end office."
The executive pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose, his voice cold,
"Mr. Edgar asked me to inform you that your workplace is here. Your position is not a Vought executive, but the resource liaison between Wizarding World and Vought International."
Pist was stunned, the smile on his face froze halfway, "Resource docking? What does this mean?"
"It means, work."
The executive tapped the documents on the table hard with his fingers.
"Thousands of monsters are now waiting for food in every neighborhood of New York. Big figures in the military are also urging for compounds. Vought International needs materials. A large amount of Fantastic Beasts materials. Whether they are living bodies, blood, horns, or complete furs, we want them all."
The executive's eyes were fixed on Pist like a poisonous snake,
"Your predecessor Joseph was a stubborn idiot. He hid most of Wizarding World's habitat coordinates and Fantastic Beasts's habitats. Now that you are the acting minister, I want you to hand over the precise coordinates of at least five hundred habitats before twelve o'clock tonight."
Pist After listening to this, I felt a chill from the soles of my feet to the sky.
Five hundred habitat coordinates?
That is equivalent to pushing all the rare creatures that North American Wizarding World has worked so hard to protect over the past hundred years onto Vought International's anatomy table!
The entire Wizarding World family is going to be turned upside down!
"Sir, this... this is impossible."
Pist fell down in cold sweat, even his voice was shaking.
"Even if I am the acting minister, those top-secret coordinates are scattered among several old-school families and senior officials. Moreover, many Fantastic Beasts are intelligent and even have ancient contracts with us Wizards. If I betray them all to the gangsters for massacre, the Wizarding World people will tear me into pieces!"
"That's your problem, not Vought's."
The executive sneered, walked up to Pist, reached out and patted his stiff cheek,
"Since you took Mr. Edgar's letter of intent, you have to give an equivalent value. Do you think that piece of waste paper is for you to use for smoking cigars?"
The executive turned and walked towards the office door. When he held the door handle, he paused and said without looking back:
"Twelve o'clock tonight. If I had not seen those five hundred coordinates in the mailbox, I guarantee that the person who opens this door tomorrow morning would not be a reasonable civilian like me."
"The mad dogs who can't find prey to vent their anger will be happy to come to your beautiful office and tear you and your old magicians into pieces bit by bit. I wish you a happy job, Mr. Acting Minister."
The door slammed shut.
Pist was the only one left in the spacious and luxurious mahogany office.
He stood there blankly, looking at the extinguished cigar in his hand, and then at the indicator document on the table that was like a reminder. His legs weakened and he fell directly to the ground.
It wasn't until this moment that Pist finally understood the kind of pressure Joseph had faced every day while sitting in this chair.
Joseph is not enjoying his rights, but has been using his body to block the dam that separates the monster from Wizarding World.
And he, Pist, kicked the old man who blocked the bullet hole into the sewer with his own hands for the sake of a non-existent executive dream, and also proudly opened the door to hell.
Outside the window, the sunshine at Brooklyn is still bright.
But sitting on the cold floor, Pist felt like falling into an ice cave.
Not only did he not become the king who controlled everything, but he became a dog chained to death by Vought International.