Jerry “The Ankle Biter” Silverhand’s Testimony #0005
Anon: So what about the Judge? You work under him, right?
Jerry: “Work under? Hah. You could call it that. I call it breathing in the man’s shadow. Boris doesn’t bark orders — he doesn’t need to. He just exists, and that’s enough to shift the whole board. He’s not chaos, not order. He’s the dent in the wall after the hammer falls. You see it, you know it happened, but you’ll never know how close you were to the swing.
Me? I bite ankles. Precision jabs, death by a thousand little cuts. It destabilizes, rattles cages, makes the mighty look small. But Boris… the Judge? He doesn’t nibble. He just watches. And when the verdict comes? It’s quiet, absolute. ‘Good. You got it out of your system. Now piss off.’ That’s not mercy. That’s a door slamming shut on your whole ego.”
Anon: So he’s your boss.
Jerry: “Boss is one word. Gravity is another. You don’t fight it, you don’t question it. You just live under it, try not to trip into the pull. And when you do, you pray he doesn’t tick your name off the list. Because once you’re on that list? Correction’s coming. Doesn’t matter if it’s a whisper, a dent, or a funeral. Correction always comes.”
Anon: And the Council?
Jerry: “The Council laughs, honks, claws, bites. All noise. But when the Judge raises a glass, even the Joker shuts up for a second. That’s the difference. The rest of us thrive in chaos. He *decides whether it was worth it.”*
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