Free Anarchy in New Enlgand by Joe Jarvis

advance us to the next level; it will be state propaganda... like the Soviet days." Drake added, knowing Barry’s obsession with history, particularly dictatorships.
    "I’m reading about Joseph Stalin now!" Barry exclaimed, excited to add value to their relationship.
    Drake acted as if he hadn’t heard Barry, and he was so wrapped up in his plan that he indeed might not have heard. "We might need some strategic Internet blackouts, but we can take care of that with a couple of false flag killings, and then some raiding of the right businesses. But the key is that the things going wrong must look like it is society disintegrating around the people. And when my men arrive on the scene everything is righted, and NESA is the hero. BA will apply the law as it currently stands in the most common contracts, but you will be the only arbitration agency left, so there will be no one to check up on the rulings, the evidence, and the convictions. We purge the detractors by charging them with crimes connected to the cartels, or crimes destabilizing the region." Drake wasn’t even talking to Barry anymore, and Barry sensed this, feeling left out for a moment.
    "And we’ll call Barry Arbitration New England Arbitration for cohesion!" Barry slammed his fist on the table a bit harder than intended, and his half full glass of wine spilled onto the white tablecloth, creating a deep red stain like blood, as Barry let slip an expletive.
    Drake was brought back to reality and looked at Barry with a note of agitation and slight disappointment in his face as the waiter rushed over to clean up the mess, "Yes, that is a good idea", and he did in fact like the idea of renaming the agencies to match the new state.
    Barry turned a little red in the cheeks at his mishap, and the two ate in silence for a minute or two. Barry was coming back to his senses, and again starting to worry about the potential for the plan to go awry.
    "But can you imagine if we got caught, Drake, how terrible the remainder of our lives would be, like dogs in a kennel," Barry was almost whining.
    "As opposed to your life now? As a house-trained dog who’s got to wag his tail and lick the hand of his owners that we call customers? A man leashed by the market, who barks on command, and who is about to be put down by some bitch vet because you pissed on the wrong fire hydrant?"
    Drake is quite the orator , Barry thought. Barry was comforted by his friend’s conviction, and more convinced as Drake’s confidence about their plan shined through his normally sullen face. In reality Drake had only convinced himself that the plan would work while explaining it at dinner. And Drake was comforted by his minion’s support.
    The truth was that Drake too thought of Barry as a dog, but knew that a dog could be man’s best friend. Loyalty from Barry was not in question, and Drake knew that all Barry needed were a few pats on the head, and Barry would growl and flash his teeth at anyone who his master deemed an enemy.
    Barry was thinking hard, and couldn’t decide what he wanted. The plan did sound great to him – well definitely the end result. And pleasing Drake was another huge plus; and with a man like Drake at the wheel it did seem more likely to Barry that they would see success.
    But the risk! This was an all-in moment, and Barry was not the type to make tough decisions. As much as he hated being chained to the market, he had always tended to rely on popular demand of the customers to guide his actions; the reason he was successful in the first place. But here he was, one man who had to decide whether to take the risk with such an immense potential reward, but with such dire possible consequences.
    Barry was used to betting with his money, but he had never bet with his freedom before. But then true power, in the old sense, had never been on the table. He felt like this was the reward that his whole life was building up to, and to give up on power would leave him only money –