The meeting concluded quickly once it was made clear that all the people who had stolen his weren't in a position to be a danger to themselves or others. Only one of them was still involved in the field at all, and she was teaching.
Bob had signed in a few dozen places and had walked out of the room with Carl, having received confirmation from Bank of America that a deposit for two million dollars had been received and that he should talk to one of their financial advisors, as the account was only insured by the FDIC up to two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, but they could diversify his account and correct that issue.
Carl caught the snort and the shake of his head. "I'll admit I'm a little surprised," he said. "Most of my clients, when they finally receive their settlement, are over the moon."
"It's just money," Bob replied with a shrug.
"I read the details of your case after Dave and Amanda asked me to lend a hand," Carl said, "and I'm pretty good at reading between the lines. Up until the incident, where records stop, you had lived in poverty your whole life. This settlement could mean never having to work again."
Bob shook his head and laughed. "Stop working," he chortled, "I can't even imagine what that would be like."
"Well, it's an option for you," Carl replied before switching to another topic. "Speaking of the dynamic duo, how are Dave and Amanda? I've barely heard from them the past couple of months."
"They're doing well, I'm in a D&D game with them," Bob smiled as he reached up to adjust Monroe's back feet. "Throg, wielder of the mighty club rat smasher, gnome barbarian."
"Ah, a fellow player," Carl smiled knowingly. "Are you going to be at the desert retreat they're setting up? I heard it's going to be huge, like a couple thousand of us."
"If I can tear myself away from work," Bob offered.
They'd reached the parking lot, and Carl checked his phone before waving a hand towards a Honda Civic, where the driver waved back. "That's my Lyft," Carl said, holding out a hand, which Bob shook. "I'll see you at the gaming table."
"Before you go, what's your favorite class?" Bob asked.
"I'm a sorcerer at heart," Carl confessed with a grin. "Love throwing fireballs," he confided.
"Take these with you to the party," Bob said, pulling a pouch out of his satchel, "they'll come in handy."
Carl took the pouch and looked inside of it before pulling out the one crystal that was different than the others. He held the Conjuration Affinity Crystal up the sky, trying to see if the sun shone through it.
"Take care," Bob said before striding off deeper into the campus, heading towards a building he'd often used to study when he hadn't been able to afford the electric bill that would come with turning down the air conditioning in his apartment. If things had changed since his time here, it would be a great place to portal back home.
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Harv was waiting in a conference room with Elli and Carol-Ann. They'd arrived a few minutes early for their appointment, but that was nearly half an hour ago, and he was starting to lose his patience.
Elli, true to form, was taking a nap. His friend had always had the ability to doze off if the opportunity presented itself.
Carol-Ann was playing around with something on her phone, but every few minutes, she would look up at the clock on the wall and frown.
He frowned. Something didn't feel right.
Twenty minutes later, the conference room doors opened, and five men stepped inside. Only one was wearing a suit, the other four dressed in uniforms of some sort, each with a small silver badge and the word 'Security' embroidered on their shoulders and chest. They were wearing weapons belts with pistols holstered.
"My apologies, gentlemen, however, you've somehow managed to find yourself in a secure area, and we don't have any records of your identification," the man in the suit smiled. "If you'll kindly provide us with your drivers' licenses or state-issued i.d. cards, we can resolve this easily enough."
Carol-Ann stood up, her face twisted in anger. "We were invited here by George Harden, the Vice President of Research," she stressed.
"Unfortunately, I didn't see any meetings booked for this conference room," the man in the suit replied, still smiling. "If you have been invited, I can run your IDs against the list of approved visitors for today."
Harv stood up, noting that Elli moved at the same time. They stepped in front of Carol-Ann. "I'm afraid that we aren't carrying any identification," Harv said, his voice tight.
"Then I'm afraid these gentlemen will have to escort you off the premises." That grin was oily and smug. Harv had the feeling that things were going exactly as the man had planned, although he had no idea why he would want to prevent this meeting.
"Alright," Elli answered, "no crystals out of our pouches; we'll be happy to leave."
Harv nodded his agreement. He switched his briefcase into his right hand for a better grip as the security guards moved to flank Elli and him, mentally noting that they apparently didn't consider Carol-Ann a threat. Or maybe they knew she had identification. Either way, it was evident that whatever this move was, it was focused on the two of them.
The man was silent as he led them back to the bank of elevators, and then after dropping back down to the ground floor, out into the lobby. Once they'd passed the security checkpoint where they'd been waved through an hour earlier without question, they stopped.
"Thank you for your cooperation," the man in the suit said, and Harv could practically hear the contempt dripping from his voice. "Now, if you'll hand over the briefcase you're carrying, which is the property of Johnson and Johnson, you'll be free to leave."
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Harv blinked, and he involuntarily tightened his grip on the briefcase, stopping as he felt the handle deform. He shook his head. This was their play. They wanted the cure and probably thought if they had a large enough sample size, they could duplicate it.
He'd been so hopeful about this meeting. They'd asked him to bring along enough of the cure to cure a hundred patients, stating that they would want the opportunity to see it at work and test the patients at their own facility.
Harv wondered if they'd planned to steal it all the while. Either way, they were gravely mistaken if they thought they could steal it from him.
"You're mistaken. This is my briefcase, which I brought into the building roughly an hour ago. If you watch the video from those cameras," Harv motioned to the very obvious cameras positioned around the lobby, "you'll easily confirm that fact."
Half a dozen uniformed men entered the lobby, although their uniforms were blue rather than grey and had 'Police' instead of security embroidered on them. They had their hands on their holstered weapons as they advanced.
"We received reports of a robbery," the man who must have been in charge of the police called out as they approached.
"Yes," the man in the suit replied, "I'm Samuel Ellicot," he produced an id card from his jacket pocket, "and these two men were found in the building, without identification, in a restricted area. That briefcase is the same one that we use to transport scheduled substances."
"As I said, if you'll review the video from those cameras, you'll see I entered with this briefcase," Harv ground out. He was out of patience. This place was even worse than Pfizer, who had astounded him with their greed.
"Sir, I'll need you to hand over the briefcase," the police officer said calmly. "We will review the video, and assuming the contents don't belong to Johnson and Johnson; we will return it with our apologies."
Harv clenched his jaw. This. This was the problem with Bob's entire world. Instead of Nobles, they had Corporations, but just like the Nobles in Greenwold, the Corporations thought they could take anything they wanted. At least in Greenwold, the Nobles knew better than to attempt to take from those who had power of their own. Here on Earth, the power came in the form of the police, who were all armed, acting on the behest of others. The citizens were powerless.
"No," Harv said coldly. "This is my property, and that man," he pointed to Ellicot, "is attempting to steal it. You would do well to not align yourself with his crime."
"I'm taking the briefcase, if it's proven to be yours, we will return it," the police officer said, then he stepped forward and grabbed the case, attempting to pull it away.
Harv didn't let go of the case.
"I'm going to place you under arrest if you don't release let go of the briefcase, which is currently considered stolen property," the officer grunted as he yanked on the case. He seemed surprised that Harv's arm hadn't even moved, let alone the rest of his body.
"Fine," he said angrily, "you're both under arrest; we will sort this out down at the precinct."
"Carol-Ann, you need to get back," he heard Elli say, the warning in his voice clear.
"Why is that?" Ellicot snipped.
"Because you have insulted him, attempted to steal from him, and you're now attempting to confine him," Elli replied. "I could probably calm him down if it were only one of those things, but you've managed to press all three of his buttons, all at once."
Harv had to acknowledge that Elli was right. People inadvertently insulted him occasionally, but Elli was quick with a joke to calm things down. He'd only been stolen from once, but Elli had helped him take it back, and prevented him from going too far.
No one had ever tried to imprison him. This was too much.
He ripped his briefcase from the Policeman's grasp. "I'm leaving," he said coldly and began to walk towards the doors. The police formed a half-circle in front of him, drawing their pistols.
"You're not going anywhere," the officer in charge spat out angrily. "I'm placing you under arrest, and I recommend you come quietly; you're becoming aggressive and violent, and I don't want my officers to have to defend themselves."
Harv stopped. "You dare to threaten me?" He asked in a whisper that could be heard by everyone present.
He had been forcefully suppressing his anger, but at this affront, it burst forth. The curse of his bloodline rose up, uncontrolled. The greyscale shades of death filled his vision, and a wave of dark grey mist exploded out of his body in all directions, filling the lobby up to waist height.
"You dare to threaten ME!?" This time it came out as a roar. "My name is Harvest Eilodon, Scion of House Eilodon, the Lost Eighth House of the Karcerian Empire, Keeper of the Gate, and Heir to the Well of Souls."
Harv had equipped his armor and his staff without thought, placing the briefcase and his suit into his inventory. Clad in his black and grey leather armor with his dark cloak, his hood raised, and his staff planted in front of him, he knew he cut an imposing figure.
"You have questioned my honor, attempted to steal from me, attempted to imprison me, and now you raise weapons against me," Harv stated, his voice carrying the weight of the grave. "All here have been judged, and all have been found guilty."
Harv wasn't moving his body, but he was pulling mana from the mana crystals stored in his staff. He didn't need one hundred seconds to cast this ritual. He didn't even need to form the ritual pattern in his mind to cast it. It was a part of him, etched into his very being, and using it was as natural as breathing.
There was a reason that he had become a shepherd. He needed to help people. His house had long decreed that a life of service was the penance they had to pay for their curse. Harv firmly believed that to be true. Because the curse was always there, always waiting. Every member of the family, thousands of people over the generations, had fallen prey to it. Harv hadn't had an incident in twenty years.
"Your souls are forfeit; let those who stand witness spread a warning that the House of Eilodon does not suffer attacks," Harv released the power of the mana crystals along with the curse.
The mist darkened instantly while specters rose from it, flesh molted in greys and blacks, shrieking soundlessly as they grasped the police officers, the security guards, and Ellicot. Their bodies collapsed instantly, but ghostly images remained, which began screaming as well as the specters tore into the ghostly flesh. A fraction of a second later, the ghosts, the specters, and the mist flooded back into Harv, leaving the lobby illuminated by the bright sun streaming through the windows.
The only evidence that anything had happened was the bodies on the floor, their faces twisted in visages of terror and pain.
Harv stood in the middle with his eyes closed as he fought down both the curse and his own rage. He switched back to his Earth attire, then he opened his eyes.
Not looking at the bodies, he strode out of the building, Elli a step behind and Carol-Ann a dozen paces behind him.
"I'll need you to portal us home," he said quietly to Elli.
"Been working on it," Elli replied, "a few more seconds. Carol-Ann, if you're coming with us, you'll need to get closer. I'm only leaving it open for long enough to pass through."
Carol-Ann moved up next to them, and Harv glanced over at her, trying to smile.
She shuddered, and he closed his eyes again. The curse took a toll beyond the obvious.
He fell through Elli's portal.
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"Mr. Secretary, the President is on the line."
Ed had come to dread those words. He stood up from his desk and nodded, following the soldier through a portal and into his office at the Pentagon, where he picked up the phone.
"Madam President," he said respectfully.
"Ed, we have a major Thayland problem," The President's voice was cool. "I've sent you a brief, familiarize yourself with it while you head to White House."
The line went dead, and he placed the receiver back in the cradle. There was a file on his desk that hadn't been there before, which he picked up and began to leaf through. He paused when he found the disc. He placed it the DVD player attached to his screen and watched it. Then he watched again. It was amazing just how good security cameras had gotten over the past few years. It made sense, after all, when people could buy 4k GoPro for a couple of hundred dollars, the companies had to step up to compete.
He wasn't sure what disturbed him more. That fact that apparently, souls were real, or the fact that they could be ripped out of your body.
He pulled the disc back out of the player, tucked it into the player, and headed out of his office. This could turn into a major shit storm.