And the Devil Will Laugh

We all need passion in our lives. It’s what makes us feel alive. It’s what makes us want to get out of bed in the morning. It’s a little spark that sends a shot of excitement through our bodies, through our souls. It’s the little voice in our head that says the adventure has only just begun and the world had limitless possibilities. Without passion, we die. We may still be here in a physical sense but are we truly alive? Jorge Hernandez knew all about passion. It had been his life's focus. Whether it be from running one of the world’s largest drug cartels during his youth or marrying the love of his life within weeks of meeting her; he was nothing without passion and to him there was no other way to exist. Of course, it was this impulsive and passionate nature that could’ve easily thrown him off track. As a child growing up in Mexico, it was the same lust for adventure that caused him to grab his cousin’s dirt bike, encouraging his younger brother Miguel to hop on the back. His enthusiasm didn’t make up for his inability to properly handle the bike, causing a terrible accident that took Miguels’s life. However, even as a child of 12, he knew that fear and guilt shouldn’t hold him captive. This was an error many people made and perhaps that is why they punished themselves by turning out the flame of passion. For Jorge, this was not an option. Now a man in his forties, Jorge Hernandez was always ready to take on anything and anyone. Many had tried to take him down but never succeeded and if they had, Jorge would’ve died screaming, his hand reaching for his enemies throat as he took his last breath. Giving into death with tears in your eyes was a sign of weakness; the expected response, but then again, isn’t that what society wanted? Didn’t they prefer people who were spineless minions, mindlessly following the rules? Jorge’s friend of 20 years and in many ways his hermano, Diego Silva, insisted that the world was full of sheep. The Colombian had long decided that, if given a choice, he would rather be the wolf. This was a stellar quality to have in a friend as well as a business associate, knowing that regardless of the situation, Jorge could always rely on Diego to rise to the top. He was a man who never backed down and took on a challenge with the same savagery as Jorge would’ve himself. This particular morning was no different, as the two men walked through the hallway of a modest apartment building, where they were about to have a meeting with Tom Makerson, the assistant editor of one of Toronto’s largest newspapers, Toronto AM. “Fuck, what do they pay editors?” Jorge commented under his breath as they made their way through the dingy hallway. Beside him, Diego let out a grunt while he twisted his face into the usual sour pose. “What you know about what people make? You’re rich.” “I know that being an assistant editor to one of the largest papers in the country should pay enough to live in a decent fucking place,” Jorge countered as they approached the man’s place. “Wouldn’t you say?” “It’s a dying market,” Diego insisted, as he continued to twist his face into an arrogant pose. “They just haven’t admitted it yet.” “It’s a dying market that’s trying to kill me and Athas,” Jorge referred to the politician he was backing in the upcoming federal election, a man who had become the disgruntled focus of Toronto AM. This was a problem that Jorge Hernandez planned to fix. The door opened and a pale man in his 30s stood on the other side. While his eyes scanned over the two Latino men in expensive suits, he silently moved aside and let them into the studio apartment.