SKELETONS.

When I was a teenager, with the world at my feet and the stars in my eyes, I got ahead of myself. I saw those around me with their lack of ambition and it made me angry. I saw the others collecting marbles and sitting on parks doing nothing with their life and I felt like I was better than them. That thought swirled round and round in my head for days and weeks, until eventually it all came to a peak.

I confronted the worst of the bunch, a lazy layabout who actively tried to disrupt every class he was in. It became impossible to learn if he was in the same room, and so once after school – when his cronies had turned off and it was just him left – I caught up with him in an alleyway.

I told him what I thought of him: that he would never amount to anything, that he was a waste of life and waste of space, and that the world would be better if he and everyone like him were gone. He smirked at me and shook his head like I was crazy and he didn’t even care. The next few moments were a haze of red. I lost it, and when I looked down the chump was cowering in a ball, covered in his own blood, just as my hands were. I saw what looked like a tooth on the floor and realised what I’d done, and ran.

My parents, knowing my intentions to enter politics, covered it up, paying off the lout’s parents with some hush money, and until today that remained the end of it all. My little secret. The skeleton in my closet.

Therein lies the problem, Kazaku. Skeletons are skeletons because those who hold the skeletons within their closet want to leave them dead and buried. When someone goes to such efforts to ensure that their past remains hidden, like you have, it’s a guarantee that nothing good can come of it. I already know of your ties to the Yakuza, so for you to expend such effort to conceal your time before those ties, I can only assume it is something abominable that haunts you.

I can only assume you see your skeletons in your sleep, Kazaku. But what are they?

You’re all out of luck, I’m afraid. I’m a very curious person in a very powerful position, and Imperium’s resource is limitless. There is always someone to talk to, some palms to grease, some information to find. Let’s just put it this way, Kazaku: if you prove to be anything other than a speedbump on my road through the OSW this week, I will make sure to find out every last sordid detail from the past you conspire to cover up. Then I’ll plaster it across every form of media I can find. TV, Radio, Print, Social. The lot.

If you know what is good for you, and that secret history of yours, you’ll do the right thing.

Vote Whitlock to win.