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Third Person POV
In one of New York City's upscale restaurants, Georgie sat with a woman beside him, waiting for someone to arrive. He remained silent, lost in thought, ignoring the stares and pointing fingers directed at him.
Everyone's eyes were fixed on him sitting still, a glass of Bourbon in his hand, seemingly miles away in his mind. Despite the attention, he paid no heed—his thoughts consumed him.
Georgie could feel the weight of every gaze in the room, yet he chose to ignore them, sipping the bourbon in his glass without care.
The woman beside him stayed quiet too, unwilling to disturb Georgie's mental state or risk triggering his temper. She simply sat there in silence.
A few women tried to approach Georgie, but the woman next to him shot them a deadly glare that made them retreat without a word.
"Sorry I'm late!" a man exclaimed, rushing over to their table. He was still glued to his phone as he sat down, glancing between the screen and Georgie. "The cab situation here is insane! I didn't even grab my bag and the guy just want to drove off!. I hate this city!" he grumbled, finally setting his phone aside.
Georgie, who had been waiting for him, let out a small laugh and smirked. "Dude, just buy a car. You're rich enough to afford a Ferrari!." And throw him a peanut.
"Seriously?" the man raised a brow. "Did you just throw a peanut at me? That's ridiculously childish, Georgie." He grabbed a handful of peanuts from the table and tossed them at Georgie in retaliation, who laughed and swatted them away like a game.
"What the hell?" another man joined them, sliding into the seat beside the newcomer. "You two look like overgrown kids. People are staring like we're the main act at a circus."
Georgie raised his hands in mock surrender. "Don't blame me Paul, your brother is the one who throw nuts to me." and grinned madly at him.
"Really, Georgie?" the man who had thrown the peanuts stared at him, stunned. "You're gay!" He said and pointed his finger at Georgie, "So gay!."
Georgie snorted and wrapped an arm around the woman next to him. "If I'm gay, then why am I on a date right now?" he said, planting a kiss on her cheek.
The woman sighed and accepted the kiss. "Honestly, I don't even know why I'm here with evil people like you all." she muttered, rolling her eyes.
"We're not evil—we're just opportunists," Georgie replied, grinning. The peanut-throwing man muttered something under his breath, "You are evil," he said bitterly, looking away.
"We're not evil, Mark," Paul interjected. "The system is what's broken."
"Yeah, sure. Where's your man?" Mark shot back, turning his gaze to Georgie again.
"Gay," Georgie replied with a low, teasing voice, grinning wider as Mark's face turned red. "So gay."
"Fuck you." Mark hissed.
"Sooo gay!" Georgie added, laughing loudly.
Paul held Mark back from lunging. "Come on, man. There's a lady here," he reminded him, flashing a smile at the woman beside Georgie. "Sorry about my brother's behavior."
"It's okay," the woman replied flatly. "I have no idea what you guys are talking about, so feel free to ignore me."
Georgie gently stroked her hand. "Ignore these two old men," he said, pointing to Mark and Paul. "You can order any drink you want from the bar."
"Okay," she said, rising from her seat. Truthfully, she wasn't interested in hanging out with these men, the only reason she was here was because she had slept with Georgie.
Mark and Paul exchanged glances—they knew exactly what kind of woman she was and what Georgie was like. Nothing about his behavior surprised them.
"You're really a manwhore," Mark muttered with a snort. A waiter arrived at their table, and both Mark and Paul placed their drink orders.
"Put it on his tab," Mark said, pointing at Georgie.
"You petty bastard." Georgie said with a grin, taking another sip of bourbon.
"So, why are we here?" Paul asked, ignoring Georgie and Mark's banter. "We're on the edge already. Why meet here of all places?"
"How much?" Georgie asked suddenly, his eyes fixed on Mark, skipping straight to the point.
"You're a crazy son of a bitch, you know that?" Mark replied, then muttered again, "You and that weird friend of yours—Michael, right? Absolute lunatics."
Georgie shrugged and turned to Paul instead. "How've you been, Paul?" he asked, ignoring Mark's outburst entirely.
Before Paul could answer, he noticed a man wandering in, looking dazed.
Michael had arrived. His eyes scanned the restaurant until landed on their booth. Without a word, he made his way over and thanking the waiter for bringing him here.
"Ah, here comes the seer," Georgie said, getting up as Michael approached. "Did you enjoy the flight?"
Michael didn't answer—he simply stared at them. Georgie didn't wait and pulled him into a hug, patting him on the shoulder.
"Weirdo," Mark muttered, earning a smack on the head from Paul. "Shut up, Mark. You know he's the one."
"I know!" Mark snapped, standing up to shake Michael's hand. "Pleasure to meet the guy who predicted the global economic collapse." he added with sarcasm.
Paul gave an awkward smile, but Michael didn't react. He simply just stared, but Georgie know why Michael stare at Mark and knowing that he will be ignoring Mark for the rest of their time in here.
Georgie laughed and guided Michael into a seat. "Come on, order something. Anything you want."
"Why did you bring me here?" Michael finally spoke, "I have work. I have a wife and a child at home."
"What are you talking about? You've been living at the office for months," Georgie replied. "Don't use that excuse—your wife literally called me to try to talk to you. You ignored her, by the way."
Michael grumbled and looked away. He wasn't trying to be rude, but he'd grown increasingly skeptical of his own predictions. Still, his deep research had unearthed something interesting—something that had slowly consumed him.
"You both are crazy," Mark said with another snort. "I can't believe I agreed to meet with you guys right now!."
"You did your own research, and you found answers that convinced you, Georgie and Michael were right." Paul said, defending Georgie, who raised his bourbon glass.
Michael remained silent, waiting for the waitress to come. "What about Lawrence?" Georgie asked, seated beside Michael, glancing at him with a grin and barely holding back laughter.
"He cried" Michael said flatly, making Georgie burst into loud laughter.
"Stop laughing!" Mark snapped, irritated by Georgie's laughter—this wasn't a joke to him. The world economy was about to collapse.
They all knew this wasn't their fault—it was the system's. A broken, corrupt system.
They hated it. They understood the chaos it would bring to America and beyond.
But they were playing within it. Taking advantage of its flaws.
If not them, then someone would.
"For your earlier question, I'm doing fine, Georgie." Paul said, shifting the mood.
Georgie smiled, "That's good. Keep an eye on this crazy brother of yours—he's reckless enough to piss off the whole world." Georgie said, jabbing at Mark.
"You're the crazy one!" Mark shot back and threw another peanut at Georgie.
They were at a fancy restaurant, but their behavior didn't reflect that. They laughed, mocked each other, ignoring the stares of nearby guests.
Except Paul—he wasn't involved in their project. He was simply keeping Mark company and meeting Georgie.
Well, he knew what they were doing. But he refused to be part of it.
"We still need to pay our premium," Michael said to Georgie without looking at him. "I don't know if you still have money, but this is our last chance to make a comeback."
"He's loaded," Mark replied before Georgie could, glancing at Michael.
Michael turned his head, face unreadable. "He's filthy rich," Mark added.
"Oh yeah," Georgie said with a smirk, teasing Mark. "Don't worry about the premium. I trust you guys." he said, this time with sincerity.
"Honestly, you're playing with fire. It's 2007 and we haven't even seen the real fallout yet," Paul said, leaning back on the sofa. "They're still saying the American economy is strong."
"That's bullshit," Mark muttered, scoffing.
"They know it's going to crash. I met this guy in Vegas—complete piece of shit," he said, turning to Georgie.
"Like you."
Georgie laughed. "Hey, I just gave you guys money and opportunity!" he said, raising his hands.
"Yeah, like a stupid big shot," Mark said. "Anyway, this guy told me he's a CDO manager. Claims he represents investors, but it's the bank that hands him the bonds, the clients, and the money for his business."
"Synthetic CDOs…" Michael murmured, eyes on Georgie as he absorbed Mark's words.
"Like I said, I believe in you guys. So carry on," Georgie said, waving his hand casually. "I believe this year, we're gonna win." And smile victorious.
Silence.
They all stared at Georgie.
"So how much?" Georgie asked Mark with a smile.
Mark said nothing.
"Two billion," Michael answered from beside Georgie, making Paul freeze in shock. "That's what my math says." Michael added.
"I don't know…" Mark finally replied, exhaling deeply. He leaned back, staring at Georgie.
"This is insane."
"They know…" Mark said again, now staring at the ceiling, "….But they don't care."
Paul understood Mark. He'd lived with him. He knew his heart.
"This isn't your fault, Mark," he said, then looked at Georgie. "Anyone in your shoes would've done the same."
Mark let out a bitter laugh.
"A lot of people are going to lose their jobs. Become homeless. Not just in America."
He took a deep breath.
"This is going to affect the entire world."
They fell into silent again, and looking at each other face, don't know what they are going to say about this big issue.
They knew that their actions were not wise, but if not them, then someone else would take advantage of this opportunity.
Georgie finished his bourbon in one gulp. He looked down at the empty glass and sighed.
"My dad once disappointed with me when he found out I was drinking at a bar. I was fourteen. Doing gigs." Georgie said, pouring himself another.
"He came to one of the bars where I was playing. I usually didn't drink while working, but that night… I was a mess." Georgie chuckling to remember those days, But he sighed deeply again. "When I woke up the next day, I thought he was going to beat me to death! But I know, deep down to his heart, he only blames himself." Georgie said and circleing his glass.
"My family wanted me to see a psychologist. Said I was ruining myself for loving them too much."
He sipped the bourbon.
"I love my family so much. As weird as they are, I still love them."
"I don't care about most people. But my family?" He looked up.
"I'd take a bullet for them."
"Think about your families," Georgie continued, his voice firmer now. "You all know this system was broken from the start. You're investors, not saints."
Mark looked down at the floor, jaw clenched.
He was wrestling with himself—the righteousness he held so tightly now tangled with guilt.
For years, he endured ridicule from colleagues, friends, everyone who thought he was a fool. And now, he was finally proven right.
But after returning from Vegas, after hearing that smug CDO manager, something inside his chest started to break.
The world was about to be ruined.
Paul placed a hand on Mark's shoulder.
"Mark," he said softly. "You don't owe anyone. You are not a superhero."
Mark inhaled sharply. His eyes were watery, but he held it in.
Georgie leaned back in his chair, watching them. Then he spoke again—his voice softer now.
"You think if you don't take the shot, the world's gonna magically fix itself?"
His tone was quiet but resolute.
"It won't. It'll just crush you along with everyone else."
Mark lifted his head, locking eyes with Georgie.
Georgie went on, serious now:
"Take the win, Mark. Take the goddamn win.
And if you hate it so much... then use it. Help people after this is over." Georgie said with smirk at him.
Paul added, his voice full of compassion:
"You can build something better, Mark. But not if you're dead broke and broken."
The room fell silent. The only sound was the faint murmur of this fancy restaurant.
Mark finally spoke, barely audible:
"I hate this."
Georgie laughed gently. "I know. That's why you're the right kind of bastard to do it."
Michael Burry, who had been scribbling numbers on a small notepad this whole time, suddenly spoke without looking up:
"2 or 3 billion. That's what you get right ?." Michael said and looking at Mark.
Mark let out a tired chuckle, then slowly shook his head and ignoring Michael who the one said something incredible. "God help me," he muttered, raising his empty glass into the air, as if to toast the broken world.
"God help us all," Paul echoed, lifting his glass too and ignoring the numbers Michael said before, fully know well that chaos is gonna happen soon.
Georgie gave a bitter smile, refilling all three of their drinks. Knowing fully well that he is more richer after knowing the numbers he get from them.
And among the clinking glasses that night, a decision was made.
Not out of greed.
But because they knew—
if it wasn't them… it would be someone far worse.