Eduarte Rivera laughed silently to himself as the boss lady reached the dais and launched into her bold vision for reshaping the inner city. Walking out of the packed conference room, he thought of the same promises his former employers gave to the people of San Salazar, or in the Crimean Sea, or some god forsaken rice paddy 8 clicks out from the middle of fuck all. He knew the promises were there to make people feel better about the screwjob about to rain down like a tsunami of shit. The unspoken assurances were coded to let them know who was gonna get it, but they were always mistaken. You didn’t vote for change, you voted how power wants you to vote. And well if you had a problem with that arrangement, Rivera’s 9mm would love to discuss it with you in private.