Ballistic had a tumultuous few weeks.
Jenny’s plans were underway, including the establishment and decoration of their new office in Five Town, the introduction of four new Haulers to the ranks, the beginnings of their R&D department (Herb was extremely happy to find out he would not be battling the dark world of public transport), and the bedecking of all the Hunters in various armours, enchantments, and trinkets. Jamie was supplied with a full set of enchanted robes that boosted his Magical Affinity and Magical Restoration to new heights. David was almost buried under his new outfit — a chainmail shirt covered by a frilly tunic. It was a fashion statement — which David made it clear he didn’t approve of — but it increased his Restoration and Physical Defence as well as giving him an inkling of Agility. He also received a short wand that would help channel his Talent more accurately.
Chase received a small emerald ring that supposedly made monsters less likely to attack him. It was hard to see the difference in their usual Raids, but he trusted Jenny wouldn’t spend the Guild’s funds on junk.
When the Ballistic office had its official grand opening, there were even reporters outside the building. He asked Jenny what they were doing there, and she cackled at him.
“Don’t you know? You’re about to become a public figure, Chase. A small fish in a big pond, but still a catch that the reporters want to reel in. For them, you’re an investment. They ingratiate themselves with the guild now, and it pays dividends if we ever hit it big.”
Chase frowned. It sounded a little underhanded, but also made complete sense. He wondered how many more reporters there’d be if he revealed his secret. Even this many was enough to be overwhelming.
“Mr Mendleton?” one called. “Are you Mr Mendleton? How does it feel to be a Guild Leader? How will you choose to benefit the community in Five Town? Is establishing your office here a jab at your former guild, Majesty, for operating in the Four Cities?”
Jenny grabbed him by the sleeve and lugged him through the crowd. “They’ll also throw hardballs at you. If you really want to take Ballistic to the top, you’re going to need media training. You look like someone slapped you across the face with a rotting fish.”
“Thanks, Jenny.”
He gave the reporters a weak thumbs-up, wondering how they even knew who to look for. It wasn’t like his face was on billboards or anything — just hidden somewhere deep in the GRA archives along with his Guild application.
They took refuge inside the new office. It was neat, and surprisingly modern for Five Town, almost reminiscent of the styles in One City. The foyer was brightly lit with hanging lamps and a fake fireplace on the side wall. A long desk with a thick wooden countertop dominated most of the room, three computers set up along it.
“Middle one’s mine,” Jenny said. “But we’ll have to hire some admin people soon — I may wear many hats, but I’ve done enough PA work for a few lifetimes, thank you very much.”
She produced a keycard and zapped them into the next section. This was where the desk-staff would work. It was sparse now, nothing more than a few cubicles, but in time it would house employees from various teams; finance, law, human resources, Gate analysts, logistics — Chase didn’t like to think about how much these teams would affect their profit margin.
Oof. The businessman inside me is coming out.
“And you’ll have to forgive me if it’s crass, but I’ve actually set aside a room for your office,” Jenny said.
“Nooo, you didn’t. You need it more than me! I barely do anything!”
Jenny laughed. “You do more than you know. And trust me, you’re paying me well, so I don’t mind. I set my salary myself.”
At the rear of the cubicles was a set of stairs curving up to a brown spruce mezzanine. The décor looked like it belonged in the pretentious library of some bafflingly rich Lord or Lady, but it gave the place a warm feel. They walked upstairs (two floors!) to where they could look out over the main floor of the office space. Up here were the scant few private offices, two meeting rooms, a smaller bathroom than the one downstairs, and a kitchen.
“And that concludes the tour,” Jenny said. “Want to confront the reporters now? Or should I give you some pointers first?”
Chase peeked past the giant glass windows at the front. There were flashing cameras out there, documenting their every move. They’d need to install some blinds.
“I think I’m ready, though I have no idea what to say to them.”
Jenny placed a hand on his back and guided him back out the front, pushing him along when he slowed.
“Start with pleasantries, and then obey one of the three S’s. Stuck up, sociable, or sexy.”
Chase groaned. “I don’t think I’m any of them.”
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*******
Across New Melbourne, a different kind of meeting was taking place.
Jason Rowenthal sat at the far end of his boardroom in a lush leather chair. His whiskey decanter was perched on a small crystal table at his side, though he was yet to pour himself a glass. It would wait until he had something to celebrate, and someone to celebrate it with.
He checked his watch. The gold face gleamed back at him, and he had to squint to see past the various dials and contraptions that crowded what should have been a simple device. It was just like his son to give him a gift like this; something that completed a basic task in such a complex way that it was infuriating and almost useless. If it hadn’t been a 50th birthday present, he’d have left it in the drawer with his other watches, never to be seen again.
But despite his son’s shortcomings, he’d finally done something of merit. Months ago, on one of those pointless Sweep Team Raids he demanded to go on, the boy encountered a curious individual who had cracked the code on using bullets to kill monsters. At first, Jason had brushed it off, assuming it was just some kind of anomalous Talent. Then he’d asked his private investigator to look into things a little more, just to shore up any doubt.
What he found astounded him. The implications it could have on his business gave him a taste of that divine feeling — the one he’d discovered when his first company went public, or when his net worth surpassed a billion dollars. Or when his wife gave birth to their first—
Nah. That was a dull day. Just sitting in the waiting room, wasting time.
Finally, the double-doors at the far end of the table opened, admitting a man in a dark blue suit and a wide, white tie. He was at least fifteen years younger than Jason, though he showed not a shred of deference to the older gentleman. His phone was at his ear, and when Jason stood to shake his hand, the younger man waved him off and continued listening to whatever bullshit he had on the stupid device. When the younger man finished, he dropped the phone in the bin and slumped down in a chair near the head of the table.
“Compensating?” he asked.
“What?”
“This table. It’s so fucking long, Jason. Walking from that end to this one is probably my cardio for the day.”
Jason scowled. This moppet was probably still in diapers when he’d been topping every one of his university classes. His airy-fairy attitude always pushed him right to the end of his tether.
But he had to stay calm.
“I run a multi-billion-dollar business, Gerald. That does not come without its fair share of board members.”
Gerald produced a small tin from his breast pocket, opened it, then took out a small rectangular packet of white powder. He slipped it between his upper gum and lip, coughed a few times, snorted back phlegm, then leaned forward and placed both hands on the table.
“Fair enough, I guess. What’s up? My PA gave me some of the deets, but it was like you wrote that shit in code. I thought she was having a stroke when she read out your message.”
Jason remained straight-faced, but on the inside he was ready to wallop Gerald over the side of the head with the decanter. “An interesting possibility has come to my attention, one that could prove to be quite lucrative.”
Gerald leaned forward. “For both of us?”
“With your assistance, yes.”
“Go on.”
Jason told him what he knew about Chase Mendleton and his discovery. Gerald’s eyebrows raised higher and higher throughout the monologue, but at the end, he merely picked up the bottle of whiskey by Jason’s side and inspected the label.
“1984. Wow. Did they even have electricity back then? You’d know, wouldn’t you?” He smiled at his own weak joke, then placed the bottle back down and raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, my apologies and all that. It’s just that I don’t see what you want from this. The kid’s got a gun. Who cares? From what you’ve said, he’s not actually doing anything illegal with it.”
Jason sighed. “You don’t see what I’m getting at? Christ, Gerald, sometimes I don’t understand how you ended up so close to the Prime Minister. This kid is standing on the precipice of a massive business opportunity, and all he has to do is realise the bag of fucking gold that he’s got clenched in his hands.” He accentuated his speech by raising his fist to Gerald’s eye-level, squeezing the air. “Think of the possibilities — the Talentless sixty percent, suddenly able to purchase weapons and ammunition that lets them fight monsters. We could outfit the CIU with full kits of gear and regular shipments of ammo for all their dumb fucking training camps. And tied with our latest venture…” He trailed off, though Gerald knew exactly what remained unsaid.
The younger man spat out his pouch of snus and stuck it to the underside of the table. Jason was on such a roll that he didn’t even mind. It was Jerry Minafeld’s seat, anyway. The decaying old codger could barely stay awake for a whole meeting, never mind bending over to find the present Gerald had left him.
“Sounds like you’ve got it all wrapped up with a polka-dot bow, then,” Gerald said. “Why tell me? Whad’ya want me to do, O Wise One?”
“Get me an injunction.”
Gerald frowned. “Get you an injunction? I don’t think you know what that means, my friend.”
“I know exactly what it means. And I don’t mean injunct me. Get the courts to stop the goddamn kid from beating us to it.”
While Gerald thought, Jason looked out the long glass windows over One City. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d done things like this over the years. His first was actually in this very building, though he’d been on the opposite side of the table, a young man of twenty-something, working to make his first buck in the business. He played that knob-head of an angel investor like a fiddle, extracting everything he could before cutting him loose and hiding behind his lawyer-enforced brick wall. Thinking back on it still made him smile.
Gerald flicked his white tie onto the table, smoothing out the wrinkles while he eyed off the amber liquid inside the decanter. “I can do it, but certainly not for free. Judge Stanton is in charge of stuff like this, and she hates my guts nearly as much as you hate me. I want fifty percent.”
“Fuck off. Five.”
“Five is an insult, Jason. You’d give five to your worst enemy and then laugh all the way home.”
“Then it’s appropriate.”
Gerald scowled, though he secretly enjoyed bandying words with the older man. Enemies can still respect each other. At this point, the percentage split was just a pointless way to keep score. If it all went off like Jason said, even one percent of the profits would buy anything the world had to offer.
“Fifteen or I’m out the door, kissing that pretty PA of yours goodbye.”
“Done. And Myra left last month. You’d be kissing Yaakov, who’s twice your age and hairier than a gorilla.”
“Oh? Your tastes have certainly changed, then.” He waited for Jason to return the jab, but he was disappointed. “And one more thing, I can’t get the injunction unless there’s a good reason why this Mendleton kid should be injuncted. Whether it’s the truth or not, I don’t care.”
Jason smiled. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it covered.”