Fleer straightened his tie as the elegant, slim brass and glass elevator rose steadily through the atrium. The atrium soared all eighteen stories of the building, and the south wall was glass, tinted to keep out the sun. The atrium was a hundred yards across, with a huge marble fountain at one end, and a lush forest of carefully manicured trees at the other. Classical statuary was liberally placed throughout, positioned with tasteful artistry.

Two free-standing elevator columns were carefully oriented to grant the rider a view through the giant wall-window. Glass wrapped the elevator car, which traveled up and down on slender steel supports that stretched the height of the elevator. Glass panels surrounded each column, mounted with brass furniture, the entirety of the structure gleaming and glorious.

As the elevator rose, the rider was literally lifted above the city, looking out to the south over the gleaming skyscrapers and buildings of the Corporate District. With the careful application of blurred vision and a healthy dose of imagination, one could imagine they were flying.

Fleer cleared his throat, and glanced discreetly at his tag-along. He hadn't expected the escort. It made sense, he supposed, but he hadn't expected it, and that rattled him a little. Perhaps Adler was slightly more paranoid than he had calculated. His escort was clearly armed, and the thorough frisking he'd received on entering the Hayworth building proved that Fleer was clearly not.

He gently brushed his hand against the panic button hidden in his sleeve in the guise of adjusting his cuffs, making sure it was still secure. Straightening his suit jacket, he subtly ran his palm over his breast pocket, where he'd stashed a small datasink hidden in the body of an ink pen. It was a handy device for grabbing a lot of data in a hurry.

He might find an opportunity to grab some data while he was on-site, but he couldn't allow himself to be distracted. Get in. Sweet-talk Adler out to the Battle Wagon. Collect the credits. That's all he needed to do.

An understated ding, and the elevator opened out onto a gracefully architected suspension walkway, spanning the distance from the elevator column to the hallway leading to the offices. If one were so inclined, one could look out over the railing, straight down all eighteen floors to the atrium.

They stepped out of the elevator, Fleer deliberately slowing his walk to fall in behind the escort. He couldn't give away that he already knew where Adler's office was.

The escort led him across the walkway, down a broad hall, and wound through some carefully decorated offices where quiet people worked, to the corner of the building. The hallway there widened somewhat, with a large door in the corner, set at a 45-degree angle to the other walls. "Thaddeus Adler" was enamelled in black on a golden plaque on the door.

The escort opened the door slowly and motioned him in. Nervously adjusting his cuffs again, Fleer complied.

The door led into a rich office, heavily done in dark wood and darker leather. The two walls flanking the entrance angled outward, making the office an oddly-shaped five-sided room. The walls near the door were covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, holding rows upon rows of somber tomes, with titles tastefully printed in gold leaf. The two walls to either side bore custom-crafted shelves holding a variety of art pieces, memorabilia, and knick-knacks made of rare and expensive materials.

The wall behind Adler's desk was a single massive sheet of glass showing the city skyline. In the distance, Fleer could see the smoky, dingy edges of the industrial district, where the Riotfish HQ lay.

The desk itself was a marvel of craftsmanship, broader and deeper than any six people could make use of, polished to a mirror gloss, with delicately interlocking patterns picked out by the grain of the wood and perfectly executed construction. It was large enough for a restrained round of field hockey, but it was the type of desk that demanded that nothing so crass as work could possibly happen on it.

Fleer kept his business-professional smile fixed in place as he took in the room-- even when he saw the small gold-and-silver statuette shaped like a strand of genetic material wrapped around a molecule.

He recognized it, of course. He used to have one just like it.

Adler sat behind the desk, wearing the same saucy grin he'd worn in the photo.

The door swung ponderously shut behind him, sealing with a quiet click.

"Fleer, good to meet you," Adler said, standing and coming around the desk. He grasped Fleer's hand in a profoundly insincere handshake and waved him toward one of the seats in front of the desk.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Fleer's smile waned as he took in the other inhabitants of the sumptuous office. Two security guards stood in the wide-angled corners behind him, dressed in suits that were tailored with eye-watering perfection. They wore sunglasses and earbuds and absolutely expressionless expressions.

"Thank you for having me, Adler," Fleer said as he settled slowly into his seat.

"No problem, no problem at all. Would you like some coffee? A water perhaps?"

"No, nothing, thank you. I was actually hoping we could discuss a little business. Uh, privately."

Adler barked a little laugh and waved at his security personnel, who quietly filed out of the office.

"Certainly. Can't be too safe, right? And having them on hand is handy in negotiations." Adler grinned. "But we're not negotiating yet."

Fleer cleared his throat and mentally shook himself. Just another business meeting. Keep it calm, light. The cameras should be muted, out of respect for Adler's business privacy, but Fleer needed to make sure everything looked normal.

And it's not as if he'd never met with a high-powered business executive. After all, he used to be one.

"Well, Adler, I'll get right to the point. I've come across some information I thought you might be interested in. I'd like to propose something of an exchange."

"Do tell," Adler said, his grin widening predatorily.

Fleer cleared his throat.

"I understand that you used to work over the R&D division of Rigenic. It's my understanding that you spearheaded Project Icarus?"

Adler's smile became glassy. Fleer could see the wheels turning in Adler's head as a few things dropped into place.

"Fleer. David Fleer. You're that Fleer."

Fleer nodded slightly, clearing his throat again. Adler barked another short laugh.

"I have to say, you certainly have brass," he said, standing. He turned his back on Fleer and looked out the window that stretched across the back wall of his office. The view over the city was breathtaking.

"Of course, I thought the way you were treated over the whole matter was disgraceful. The newsfeeds were certainly uncomplimentary enough, but the scuttlebutt was downright vicious. It was probably for the best that you didn't get to hear much of it." Adler turned slightly, making his predatory grin visible on the edges of his face.

"It was certainly a time of learning and growing," Fleer said. "I learned many things, and trying times can often open new opportunities."

Adler looked back out over the city.

"Yes. Well, I don't suppose it was easy. One wonders how you've been keeping yourself. Things are certainly going well for most of us. I hope you've found a new path forward. The rest of us have."

"That's good to hear, Adler. One of the things I learned is how very quickly things can change when new information comes to light. Information about projects you've worked on. Things you've done."

Adler was silent for a moment.

"Perception is reality, if enough people believe it," Adler said quietly.

"And information is power, for those who control it," Fleer said.

Adler turned stiffly on his heel, a seething pot under tight control. The semblance of the grin was still there, a bare structure on which mirth or joy could hang, but there was nothing like happiness in his expression now.

"What is it you want, Fleer? You can't get into the C-suite, you must know that."

"Perhaps we could discuss it elsewhere. Quietly."

Adler's eyes bulged. Fleer could see the calculations forming in his head. Numbers, events, people, and money spun behind those eyes. Cold calculation spidered across his expression as he struggled to make sense of things.

Then the penny dropped.

Adler brayed a long, genuine, unlovely laugh, and collapsed in his chair.

"You, you, you're after the mark on me?" Adler forced out between guffaws.

"You know about it?" Fleer asked, shocked.

"Know about it?" Adler cackled. "I set it!" And he burst into fresh peals of laughter.

"I don't think I understand," Fleer said carefully.

"Look at you! Sitting there all somber and important, grubbing after some throwaway money for mercenaries! And I thought you were serious! Are you a mercenary now David? Are you a hired gun?"

After his laughter trailed off into a fit of giggles, Adler relaxed back in his chair.

"I have that contract set up on a perpetual basis to test our defenses. It lets my security guys chew up cheap mercs, keeps them alert. You're the first one to waltz right in and try to blackmail me out of here. Like I said, you have brass." Adler shook his head. "And to think, you're reduced to using... that project for simple blackmail. I feel so sorry for you I'm tempted to just give you the money."

Fleer stiffened.

"So you have a contract out that's not genuine? A merc trap? I wonder what the Mercenary's Guild would think of that?"

Adler's laughter dried up immediately.

"They won't think of that. It's clear how sharp you were, but Fleer, if you want to be a high roller, you've got to have something to stake." Adler waved at the cameras.

Suitmen filed back into the room. Two, four, half a dozen. Fleer began surreptitiously squeezing the panic button.

"Boys, Mr. Fleer has been carrying tales. Find him a suitable audience down in Processing. And let's go ahead and evac, put the building on lockdown in the unlikely event he has some friends."

Two suitmen lifted Fleer to his feet.

"Are you sure this is the path you want to go down, Adler? It's liable to get messy."

"Fleer, the only mess here is you. And it will be cleaned up shortly."

Adler waved dismissively toward the door and turned back to the window.