This situation could easily spin out of control entirely.  He had to gain control, and fast.  Dwight was a potent adversary for one reason only.  He was the company's best salesman and if he resigned Ryan would have to explain to Wallace why he had failed to keep their top earner in the fold.  Dwight would have two choices... he could either get on board with the new order or Ryan would slowly suffocate him, sabotaging his clients one by one until Dwight was vulnerable enough to be fired. Dwight would never underestimate him again, that was for damn sure.  He lurched quickly to his left, and then spun and faced Dwight directly.  Times like these, he would have traded his left nut to be six inches taller.  He looked up and met the icy gaze of the taller man as he began shouting.

"That'll be the LAST time you call me Temp... EVER.  I'm in charge now.  Am I making myself crystal clear, Dwight?"

Dwight looked completely unmoved.  Was anyone in this rotten little shithole going to give him the respect he deserved? He would relish the moment he got to shut the whole damn place down. Or better yet... burn it to the ground. 

"You're not my boss... my boss is sitting right over there... TEMP"

Michael couldn't contain a proud smile.  Ryan hurried to the door and quickly shut it.  He'd have to contain the damage in the short term.

"And I'm HIS boss, Dwight, so get used to it."

"Did they teach you a little thing called loyalty in business school, Ryan?  Or were you absent that day?  Well let me give you a free lesson"

He pulled out an envelope, ceremoniously unfolded a letter, and began to read.  This was unexpected.

"In light of recent confidence-undermining personnel decisions taken by Dunder Mifflin, we the undersigned do certify that our continued business with Dunder Mifflin is hereby contingent on the continued employment of one Mr. Michael Scott and one Mr. Dwight Schrute.  Signed..."

Ryan listened in horror as Dwight read off a laundry list of the company's biggest clients.  That treacherous bastard.  It wasn't a matter of whether he'd pay for this... it was just a matter of when.  Senior managers don't get held hostage by peon salesmen, no matter how large their Rolodex.  The sooner he could drill that through Dwight's thick head the better.  Ryan contemplated his options.  Soliciting this letter should be a fire-able offense, but any customer loyal enough to Dwight to sign the letter in the first place would inevitably refuse to confirm that Dwight had initiated it.  He didn't have the credibility just yet to go to war with the company's top earner.  He'd have to back off in the short term to allow himself to time to build a case against Dwight, Michael, and Scranton, in order to undermine the credibility that they seemed to possess right now in spades.  FUCK!  This wasn't the plan, but he was nimble, adaptable, agile... lethal.  He had an MBA for Christ's sake.  This was a tactical retreat.  He would return, and he would kill.

Dwight made his way over to Michael's' desk and stood behind his seated boss, his countenance stern, his arms crossed authoritatively. Ryan changed the subject.

"Get the hell out of here Dwight.  I need to talk to Michael."

Michael looked up at Dwight and nodded gently.  Dwight slowly made his way out of the room.  It took everything Ryan had to remain composed when he heard the music.  Dwight was softly humming Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire."

"Shut the door!"

Dwight ignored him and left the door wide open, and Ryan tried to look casual as he made his way over to shut it.  All pretense of cordiality was gone from his voice as he spun back around and faced Michael.  He hissed at Michael, shaking a trembling finger across his desk into his face as he spoke. 

"Listen up and listen good.  This will end badly for you, I swear it."

He was hardly surprised when Michael seemed unintimidated. 

"Calm down, my friend, there's no need to make this personal..." 

He heard Michael's casual, dismissive tone and lost it.

"Its beyond personal, you bastard!  Get me coffee Ryan!  Clean my car, Ryan!  Drive my asshole friend to his sales calls because he had too many DUIs to do it his fucking self, Ryan!  You're damn right its personal.  Call me a tease...  Embarrass me in front of my classmates...  Sit me next to Kelly...  I will bury you, Michael, no matter how long it takes me.  You have no idea what I'm capable of, but I swear to you you're going to find out, and it's going to hurt."

For the first time all day, Ryan felt good.  His own words resonated in his head like music.  It wasn't how he had imagined laying down the law, but throwing a few raw threats at an old nemesis made him feel alive.  He turned his attention to Michael to savor his reaction to the potent verbal volley that had just slammed into him.

Something wasn't right.  Michael hadn't moved an inch.  It was almost like he knew it was coming.  He expected the searing personal attack?  How could he expect that?  How could he be ready for that?  The picture wasn't adding up.  A chilling thought hit Ryan.  Hard. 

Michael hadn't expected to get attacked like that at all.  It was far worse.  He had induced it.  He had solicited the attack: goaded Ryan into it.  This wasn't a man capable of second-order feints and gambits... what in God's name was going on?  Michael looked right through Ryan and began nodding his head gently. Oh fuck. 

"Well I think that's just about all we need to hear."

The voice wasn't Michael's.  Ryan's eyes darted to the phone.  The red light of the speakerphone indicator was lit.  My God.  Jan.  He burned with rage as he kicked himself for overlooking the fact that the simple, unsophisticated Michael had a very capable, very vengeful angel on his shoulder.  He had taken her job, after all.  Michael had no doubt initiated the call just before he entered the office, in order to insure that he could claim the recording that inevitably happened on the other end of the line was unintentional, and therefore perfectly legal.  He was fucked.  He needed time to think.  He needed space to think. 

He made for the door, but before he could get there it lurched open.  He would have pushed his way out but Pam stepped into the doorway.  He wanted to run her over.  In about three seconds he would want to punch her pretty little face...  Her voice was sweet as always.

"Michael, there's a Beamer in the parking lot, and somebody glued a dildo to the hood ornament.  Oh hi Ryan."