I could see that Ben was anything but happy about it, but he had nothing to counter my arguments with.
Thing was, I was right. People like those we were to meet did not let go unless you made them let go.
That meant I had to demonstrate to them that they were the chihuahua and I was the great dane in our relative standings.
I centered myself and exercised the mental muscle I had left fallow for around a year by now.
It was quite a bit harder than I had remembered it. Mostly because before I came to New York, nearly all the emotions I had to shove aside were what is commonly considered bad.
Anger, fear, rage, despair, even loneliness. It was a bad emotion, I had it. In spades. But now, for a surprise twist, I had to clamp down on positive emotions.
Friendship, happiness, camaraderie, and even, as I was slowly accepting to myself, love. And strangely, those emotions were way harder to suppress.
But I had not lost my willpower, and I managed it, and I felt the familiar coldness and detachment come over me a couple of minutes before we landed.
When I opened my eyes again, I addressed the others in the T-240, in my bored, unconcerned voice:
“Ok, here we have it. To make it clear, I will act spoiled, dismissive, arrogant, and plain superior. Please keep in mind, that this is an act. I will probably be rude to you, and I apologize beforehand.
Tomorrow I will mean nothing of it, but for today, I have to.”
Ben just sighed, while Thomson and Svenja looked decidedly unhappy, but nodded as well. Not that I did care much at that moment.
I watched the video of the reaction the guards showed when the Carnotaurus landed in front of them, cutting off quite a few limousines, with some amusement.
Their faces became even more interesting when first the four men in full power armor left the assault skimmer, followed by Sgt. Reynolds and Cpl. Longobardi and the other 16 persons of the guard detail in their dress uniform, including their gilded pistols and their side swords. And of course, the very lethal standard carabine that they each carried.
Then the Carnotaurus lifted off, the guards took up defensive positions, and the T-240 landed. One of the privates, Manuel Márquez, on the order of Sgt. Reynolds, opened the side door, letting first Lt. Thomson, and then Svenja out of the luxury skimmer. When they gave the all-clear, Ben exited the vehicle and then helped me out of it.
To be honest, it was cold, and I was happy that I was wearing a synth-pelt coat over my rather flimsy silk gown, and somewhere deep inside me, I was also happy that I had insisted on great coats for the uniforms, though in my emotionless state, that was a very muted feeling.
I put my hand into Ben’s elbow when we followed six of the guards along with Longobardi into the hotel.
Some rent-a-cops tried to stop our guard detail, but that quickly ended when the four men in power armor, along with the heavy weaponry, intervened.
You could literally see the ‘nope, I’m outa here’ reaction when six tons of humanoid armor stomped in front of them. For some strange reason, we had no further problems getting our heavily armed guard detail into the ballroom. Who would have thought?
I let Ben help me out of the coat in the wardrobe. The rather bored-looking young woman taking all our coats, including the greatcoats of the protection detail did not even have an eyebrow twitch, much less show any other form of reaction appropriate to 16 heavily armed soldiers in dress uniform appearing.
We had left the even heavier armed soldiers in power armor outside. For now.
Still, we remained mostly silent when we marched from the coat check to the ballroom proper.
Another hired gorilla stood, along with a couple of other big beefy menacing-looking men in front of the big double doors.
He held up his hand.
“What the fuck, Walker! You know you can’t bring your goons here. I thought that had been made clear to all of you degenerates.”
I heard the smile in Ben’s voice more than I saw it when he answered.
“Well, Jerkins, then it is probably good that I have no goons with me, isn’t it?” It was fascinating that Jerk did not notice how Ben had stressed the ‘I’ in his sentence because he turned red, his brows knitted together and an angry snarl developed in his mouth.
“You think you are funny, aren’t you, huh Walker? You think just because you have a big shot in your territory now you are out from the control of the decent people here? Think again. And then comply! Or face the consequences. And I will think we will start with your whore the…”
He suddenly stopped when the muzzle of Langobardi’s sidearm materialized in his left nostril.
The two goons behind him made brief motions to draw something from under their jackets but quickly lifted their hands when the remaining six guards on the vanguard pointed their scary-looking rifles at them.
That was followed by Thomson moving in front of Ben and me, and pointedly observing the situation.
“Woodrow Security Solutions, correct?”
Jerkins managed to nod very slowly and Thomson continued:
“Did you notice the emblem on our uniforms by chance?”
That made Jerk strain to look at the emblem on Thomson’s uniform, while simultaneously not moving his head. Something to do with a high-caliber pistol being stuck in his nose I think.
Then he spoke, with way less venom than when he was talking to Ben.
“Anybody can put on any fictitious uniform if they want to. This proves nothing. And if you know what’s good for you, you will get away pretty fast, before we request an arrest warrant for you and Walker.”
Thomson cocked his head. Meanwhile, the always-helpful Warden projected Mr. Jerkins' public, and not-so-public information into my field of vision. The man standing in our way had been born in the Bronx in 2205, making him 44 years old and… seriously? His parents named him that? Wow, talk about cruelty. Anyway, he had been employed by Woodrow for the last 23 years, and was now a so-called ‘Senior Conflict Resolution Specialist’. Or senior skull crusher in common parlance.
“Fictitious? I know Woodrow is only a C-tier corp, but you should be better informed here. Especially about the uniforms of a triple-A corporation. Lt. Aidan Thomson, Vandermeer Security Service, Personal Protection division. And you will! Not! Threaten! My! Principal! Did I make myself clear?”
“You want me to believe that Walker got himself some Vandermeer goons? Seriously?”
That was followed by Langobardi’s knee ‘accidentally’ connecting with the crotch of Jerkins. When the goon managed to fight himself back to his legs after nearly a minute, much to the protests of the people behind us I might add, he glared at Thomson before he wheezed out:
“You are just digging your grave deeper and deeper. Nothing can make me believe that Vandermeer has any interest in Walker.”
Thomson’s very cold voice answered him:
“We are not here for Walker. And don’t think… “ That was the moment I tapped Thomson on the shoulder, drawing his attention to me, and then gestured with my chin for him to move aside.
When the way to Jerkins was halfway free, Langobardi was still probing his nose with the muzzle of his gun, I moved forward and used my silk-gloved hand to poke him in the chest.
“We are wasting time, Richard,” the shock on his face when I used his name was slightly amusing, “that is the reason why I am explaining the three options open for you aloud.”
I held up one finger.
“First, the easy option! You could step aside, and continue your life in the secure knowledge that you are nothing more than an annoying little dog, yapping at the heels of people who actually matter.”
I held up the second finger.
“Second, the slightly harder option. You let us in and then attempt to follow through with your threat. The moment you apply for an arrest warrant, you will be made explicitly aware of the meaning of the word ‘extraterritoriality’. The aftermath of which might go up to and including Woodrow offering me your head on a silver platter. Literally!”
I was quite proud of the cold way that I spoke the last word but continued to hold up my third finger.
“And lastly, the third option. You try to play hardball, with the result that the already overworked peons of this hotel will have to spend the next few hours removing the remains of your skull, blood, and brain from the walls here, while I enjoy this ball with my companion. Naturally, that will lead to some well-meaning but clueless person calling in another Woodrow Senior Conflict Resolution Specialist, maybe even an actual NYPD officer to accost me, which will result in them learning the meaning of the word ‘extraterritoriality’.”
By now, sweat was showing on Dick Jerkins’ forehead, and the gorilla on his right side demonstrated superbly how much weight put Woodrow into the intelligence of its security personnel.
“Uh, boss, is that chick threatening us? And what does this extraterrorism mean?”
The answer, of course, was not much, obviously. But I answered him anyway.
“Extraterritoriality means that some people are actually important and are above the law, while most others are just peons that should do their best to not come to the attention of the important people. Do you want to guess which of us falls into which category?
I give you a hint, I could have Richard here, and you, and anybody you know, anybody who even ever sold you a hot dog, tortured to death, and the consequences, for me at least, would be that the politicians in this city would politely ask me to not do it again.”
You had to give Jerkins at least that much that he did not carve in immediately.
“Extraterritoriality is only valid for important people of at least A-tier corporations.”
I cocked an eyebrow.
“Benjamin Walker is a minority owner of a double-A corporation. I am the majority owner of said double-A corporation. Beyond that, I am also the sole heir of a triple-A corporation. That makes both of us fall under extraterritoriality. But you have annoyed us enough. Decision time. In 10 seconds, Cpl. Langobardi will redecorate this lobby unless you are no longer in our way! 10… nine… eight…!”
I was not surprised that he stepped aside, glaring menacingly at me. Not that I cared in the slightest.
And just like that, Ben escorted me, protected by the 18 soldiers of my protection detail, into the ballroom proper.
Softly, but loud enough that Richard had to hear it, Ben asked me:
“He really is a Dick?” That brought soft snickers from my protection detail but I remained mostly silent.
As soon as we walked through the actual double door, an automatic system called out:
“Mr. Benjamin Walker and guest.”
So, I was ‘guest’ now? They would learn.
It did not take me long to spot my next vict… uhm, conversation partners, and I squirted a message to Ben.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
V: Can you steer us to the middle-aged couple on the right there? With the Latino male and the bleached blonde woman?
B: You mean the obnoxious-looking woman in the off-white gown?
V: There are not many here that are not obnoxious-looking, but yes.
B: No problem. But you really don’t have to do this, you know?
V: Those people are bullies. They get off of hurting or humiliating others. You don’t get bullies to back off by just being better, you have to ruin their fun. And I am planning to ruin their fun so thoroughly that they will never even think about risking me coming to their little parties ever again.
B: By humiliating them?
V: By humiliating them.
By that time, we had reached the couple in question, and the man sneered:
“Well, Walker, it seems you have found another nice call girl.”
I just ignored him and pointedly looked at the various pieces of jewelry that the woman was wearing, before I loudly exclaimed:
“Oh my gosh, are those really diamonds?”
When the rather portly woman began to push out her chest in some form of inflated pride, I turned to Ben.
“Benjamin, my understanding of these festivities was that we would meet people with a modicum of class here. Instead, I find people who are wearing diamonds as if they were something precious.”
Instantly the pleased look on both their faces vanished, and the woman began sputtering incoherently, while the man turned red.
“Those are real diamonds. Do you have any idea what they are worth?”
I turned to him, cocked my head, and then shrugged.
“Nothing? Diamonds are just carbon. Get a carbon extruder and you can make them by the metric ton if you want to. If they were at least pretty… but no, diamonds are simply worthless.”
Interestingly, the man got even redder, and then spat out:
“Says the little girl who wears silver jewelry.”
I sighed demonstratively.
“You already sufficiently demonstrated that you lack any education or culture. You don’t have to put more work into it.”
I then turned to Ben:
“First diamonds and now he thinks I am wearing silver… what’s next? Will he try to sell me Manhattan for some glass pearls?”
The woman was now a bit more coherent and shrieked:
“Who do you think you are? You are calling us primitive?”
Whatever answer I could give was preempted when another slim, rather tall man with dark brown hair and eyes stepped up to us and spoke softly:
“Enrico, Barbara, you should stop digging. She is not wearing silver jewelry. From the color and the way it reflects the light, it could be either chrome, platinum, or rhodium. And considering that chrome is cheaper than silver, I would tend to the latter two. My bet would be on rhodium.”
Now that was inconvenient. There was actually somebody with some intelligence here. Still, I could not deny that he was right.
“You are right of course. It is mostly rhodium. Though the darker strands are tantalum. The green strands are, naturally, synthetic emerald.”
That brought Barbara to shout:
“Hah, and you dare to claim to be better because we have real diamonds?”
I rolled my eyes, followed by Ben, while the stranger sighed.
“Barb, it would really behoove you to think for a moment. The synthetic emeralds are a message of a completely different kind. Everybody and their brother can get a carbon extruder. They are old tech, from the great war. But do you know what you need to get synthetic emeralds in those forms?”
He was, of course, right again. The jewelry I was wearing was a multi-stranded Celtic-themed design of rhodium, tantalum, and emerald intricately interlinked, and the synthetic emerald chains were seamless. No way traditional emerald production methods could get them created in that fashion.
Enrico was now a bit confused but answered:
“I would think one of those new replicators if you are asking this way. Why?”
“Correct. The smallest replicator costs around $12 million, and they are rare. This young lady here demonstrates with this jewelry that not only has she a replicator, but she can afford to use it for something as frivolous as jewelry.”
Wow, he was seriously good. Still, something about him rubbed me the wrong way. I could not place my finger on it, but I just did not like him. But I could not concede that point right there and then. At least not directly.
“Is that really important? Emeralds are pretty, unlike diamonds. That is the only reason. So why not use a replicator to make them?”
The stranger smiled.
“So, to summarize, you are wearing what, around two kilograms of rhodium, which costs roughly 12 times as much as gold, another kilogram of tantalum, which is the rarest stable element in the known universe, and all that interwoven with synthetic emeralds, and all that just because it is pretty?”
I shrugged.
“Honestly, yellow metal clashes with my hair color. And rhodium is just pretty. I think the tantalum is different enough to contrast it nicely.”
He nodded, still with a friendly smile.
“And the monetary value of all that had nothing to do with the way you reacted to the Salvez’?”
“Of course not. I am just not used to using cheap materials. Why do that if you can afford the real thing? But I have to confess that them proudly showing off their cheap jewelry made me a bit upset.
I mean, come on, diamonds? I gifted my accountant a set of red diamond jewelry because she likes costume stuff, but to wear it to some important event? Show some culture, please!”
The nice thing about that was that I was not even lying. Yes, my shoes usually were synth materials, but I usually wore carbon weave, and Jacky did like costume jewelry.
“I see.” Meanwhile, the Salvez both gave a credible imitation of fishes, and the stranger sighed again.
“I think you broke them. But as nobody has seen fit to introduce me, I am Isaak Blumenthal. At your service.”
I nodded and offered him my hand.
“Vivian DuClare. I am delighted to meet you.”
His smile widened but never reached his eyes.
“Ah yes, I heard of you. You are that new wunderkind of Enki, right?”
I smiled back.
“I would not exactly call myself a wunderkind. But yes, I work with Enki.”
He chuckled.
“More like you own Enki. But that begs the question, why are you here with Benjamin Walker? He… is not quite in the most respectable business.”
I shrugged.
“When I arrived in this quaint city, I needed somebody to test my then new ideas about CRS-free cyberware on. He suffered from terminal CRS. As you see, it worked out fine, for both of us. He was the one who convinced me to put Enki in Queens, and when he asked me to accompany him to this ball I had no reason to say no.
And yourself? What are you doing, when you are not removing shovels from the hands of uncultured imbeciles?”
His smile turned a tiny bit predatory to the background sound of outraged idle rich when he answered:
“I am mostly a freelance service facilitator.”
Ah, a fixer. That might explain why he was somewhat knowledgeable and why I had an instant dislike of his person.
“I think I understand.”
He tilted his head a minute amount.
“I would expect nothing less from an angel.”
Yeah, he knew who I was. Not really surprising honestly. But a bit disturbing.
His smile was again what would usually be described as winning, though I found it more disturbing, and he made a half bow.
“As it is, Madame, I will try to soothe the wounded egos you’ve just created, while you can move around and break some more.”
Oh yes, he clearly understood what I was doing. Which meant that he knew more about me than I was comfortable with.
On the outside, I had let my eyes wander over the masses. It was not hard to spot the cluster of bosses who were forced into this spectacle. Vince especially winced when he noticed Ben and me, though his whole posture became more questioning when he realized that we were surrounded by some guards.
It was clear from the outset that he would try to corner us to find out how we had achieved that. After a brief exchange of messages with Ben, we decided it was better to get it over with. Not that we did not like Vince, mind you. But we… well, I, had a mission. And chatting with Vince was not the best option for succeeding in that mission.
As so often, people make plans, and something happens to kill those plans. In this case, when we were on the way to Vince, another man, in a white dinner jacket with a glass of some sparkling liquid in it intercepted us.
“Ey, those uniforms are cool. Who do they belong to? And how did you manage to get your bodyguards even into the building?”
At least I think that is what he tried to say. What came out of his mouth was more like:
“Eu, thesr ubiffoormd are coool. Who so thet bellong to? And how fid you managgw ti get yoyr nody. guaarrss rbe n into rhr buildinf?”
V: Ltd. Thomson, do you think you can convincingly play the disgruntled loyal soldier who has the distasteful job of babysitting a spoiled, capricious, and arrogant corporate princess?
I had naturally outfitted the whole guard detail with ultra-bandwidth jacks plus the cranial board, as well as providing each of them with a Q-link with Warden. The tactical advantages were obvious, and the synaptic accelerator was another favorite of them.
That had, by the way, resulted in Vandermeer Security Service deciding to make a high jack and a cranial board standard equipment for their soldiery. Quickly followed by the Enki security department.
The answer from Thomson did not take long to arrive, but the drunk man had used that time to pressure a bit further:
“Gry, I am talk. ong to you! I asjed. yoou a question.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. My best guess was that he was complaining that I had not yet answered.
“One would think that speaking intelligibly instead of in a drunken slur would increase the chance of getting an answer. Especially as it takes some time to translate it into understandable English.
Now, I don’t see why I should have had problems getting my Vandermeer security detail into the building. There is nobody here who has any standing about refusing them.”
Then I received Thomson’s answer:
A: That should be no problem ma’am.
V: Excellent. Please be as griping as you can. And make sure that you are overheard.
A: As you wish.
“Oh! Vandermrer! Joww coil. Whaat di they cist?”
I rolled my eyes. Seriously, what did I do to deserve that? My guess was that he asked how much I was paying for the Vandermeer troopers.
“How should I know how much that costs? And speaking in a way that intelligent people can understand usually helps in communication, you know?"
“Are you callin me stupud? I am not stupud! You arr stupud!”
Oh marvelous! He had become belligerent. In moments like these I actually, for a moment, understood the decision of the idiots to make us unable to become drunk.
“For real, how can it be that this… person is already that drunk? Whatever. Thomson, this man is annoying me. Make him stop!”
With a tortured sigh, that I for sure hoped was faked, Thomson moved forward.
“At once, ma’am.”
Fortunately, Vince had already begun moving toward us, so we were not interrupted another time.
As soon as we were close enough, Vince pulled Ben into a hug.
“Hey Ben. I had hoped you were beyond this nonsense by now.”
Ben, softly slapping Vince’s back, answered wearily:
“So did I, old friend, so did I.”
The two men separated, and the slightly younger woman that was on Vince’s side came over to hug Ben as well.
“Nice to see you, Andy.”
She answered in some humorously accusing tone:
“If it is so nice, how does it come that I’ve not met you for a year now?”
The two separated, and Ben laughed briefly.
“You know how it is Andy. Too much to do, and too little time. What little free time I have is invested differently right now.”
“Excuses, excuses. Always with the excuses.”
Ben moved back to my side and pulled me into a one-armed hug.
“Well, if I have to choose between spending time with Vivian here or shooting the breeze with my friends… I think every man will accept that I will choose the former.”
That made the woman narrow her eyes when she inspected me.
“Hmph… way too young for you. But pretty enough. So, bring her along. Or we visit you. Now, how about one of you two men properly introduce us?”
Vince had the decency of looking chagrined, while Ben sighed dramatically before he complied.
“Fine, fine. Andrea Luciani, meet Vivian DuClare. She is the genius that not only prevented the gang war a year ago but also kept many of us alive with her inventions. Vivian, Andrea is Vince’s wive for… how long now?”
Vince smiled indulgingly at his wive and answered:
“Since nearly 40 years now. And going strong.”
I offered my hand to Andrea.
“It’s nice to meet you. And I am sorry that I kept Ben away from his friends. He could have said something though.”
“And risking you vanishing in the woodwork again?”
I rolled my eyes.
“I am not that skittish.”
Ben chuckled.
“Not anymore. But you were.”
Vince nodded slowly.
“He is right. You are not… so nervous anymore. But… sorry to change the topic so abruptly, but what was that with Jeff right now?”
I tilted my head.
“Jeff?”
Ben answered for Vince:
“Jefferson Whaite. You know, the drunk you foisted poor Ltd. Thomson on.”
“Oh… he asked… well, I think he asked at least, how I managed to get the guard detail into this shindig. He was a bit hard to understand though, so I might be mistaken.”
Vince let his eye move over the Vandermeer group.
“Ah yes. The guards. To be honest, I am wondering about the same thing. How did you get your guards in here Ben? And why don’t I recognize any of them?”
Ben chuckled.
“The answer to both questions is the same. They are not my guards, they are Vivian’s. I am just along for the ride, as unguarded as every year.”
That made Vince look at me through narrowed eyes.
“That is somewhat surprising. So, Vivian, then the question is for you. How did you manage to get your guards through the security here?”
I shrugged.
“That is rather simple. Vandermeer trumps Woodrow.”
Vince rubbed his cheek with his right index finger.
“Vandermeer? Seriously? I did not know that Vandermeer offered security to external customers. And I seriously doubt that Jerkins simply accepted that.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I honestly do not know if Vandermeer offers guard details as a service, but I… was not quite given the option of declining them. And yes, Richard did try to bar them from entering. But as I said, Vandermeer trumps Woodrow. The guards have extraterritorial status.”
Vince scowled.
“Not given the option? How?”
I had made the conscious decision to use my ancestry as a social weapon at this ball relatively early. That of course meant that my dirty little secret would not remain a secret anyway, so there was no reason to keep it from Vince.
“In essence, the fact that I am Nathaniel Vandermeer’s granddaughter and only viable heir made the guard detail compulsory. At least that is what Nate told me about it.”
To his credit, Vince’s reaction mostly consisted of slowly blinking a few times before he answered:
“That… to be honest that is more than a bit surprising. But… why now? You have been here in NYC for how long? A year and a half? Why reveal it now?”
I shrugged again.
“A bit over a year now. And why now is easily answered. Those self-proclaimed ‘elite’ citizens of New York hold this circus to bully you and the others. To demonstrate their social superiority.
Now they are learning that if they call Ben, they get me as well. And their game is much less fun if there is somebody with a higher standing than them present.
And you don’t get much higher than me in that regard. As far as I know, there is only one person in NYC right now of a higher status than me. And I fail to see Phillip Rawleigh anywhere here.
Now I rub their noses into it, turn the tables on them, and all in all, ruin their fun. I bet this is the last time they ever ‘invite’ Ben to this stuff.”
Vince nodded.
“Ok, I can understand that. Too bad you can’t do the same for the rest of us though.”
I shook my head.
“I will see what I can do, but I do not quite understand the whole dynamic yet, so no promises.”
Vince sighed.
“No… I don’t expect you to achieve much. As long as this clique has the police under their control, and with Woodrow as additional legal enforcement, there is not much we can do.”
Andrea nodded at his side.
“Don’t sweat it, dear. We are by now used to it. But I have a much more important question. If you are the legendary lost Vandermeer heir, what are you doing here in New York? Why are you not in Seattle?”
I sighed.
“Officially, I am here to spread my wings, trying to succeed without the Vandermeer name and corporation behind me. The reality… is not something for this time and place. We can meet sometime and talk about it, but not now.”
She nodded sagely.
“Ah, politics. The bane of every civilized woman.”