[The Principality of San Solara - The Royal Palace]
San Solara was a tiny island nation in the Mediterranean, famous for two things: beautiful sunsets and crippling national debt. The Royal Palace, once a jewel of Europe, was crumbling. The paint was peeling. The guards were wearing uniforms from the 1980s.
Prince Marco, the ruler of this failing state, sat in his office with his head in his hands.
"Your Highness," his advisor whispered. "The World Bank is on the phone. They are demanding payment. If we default, they will seize the national airport."
"Tell them..." Marco's voice cracked. "Tell them I am selling the crown jewels. Just give me another week."
BOOM.
The heavy oak doors of the palace didn't open; they were pushed aside by two men in black suits. Alex walked in.
He wasn't wearing a suit. He was wearing casual clothes—a white t-shirt and jeans—because the UN had frozen his tailor's account. But he still looked richer than the Prince.
"Prince Marco," Alex said, walking past the stunned guards. "I hear you have a cash flow problem."
"Who are you?" Marco stood up, indignant. "This is a private audience! Guards!"
"Your guards haven't been paid in three months," Alex said calmly. "I just transferred their back pay into their crypto wallets. They work for me now."
The guards at the door looked at their phones, saw the notification, and immediately saluted Alex.
Marco slumped back into his chair. "You... you are the terrorist. The one on the news. The UN says you are dangerous."
"The UN says a lot of things," Alex sat on the edge of the royal desk. "They say I'm broke. They froze my bank accounts. They think I can't buy a stick of gum."
Alex pulled out a black briefcase. He didn't open it. He just rested his hand on it.
"But they forgot one thing, Marco. Crypto doesn't care about the UN. And gold doesn't care about sanctions."
"What do you want?" Marco whispered.
"I want to buy your country," Alex said. "Lock, stock, and barrel."
"This is a sovereign nation!" Marco shouted, though he lacked conviction. "We are not a car! We have a seat at the United Nations! We have history!"
"You have $20 Billion in debt," Alex corrected him. "And tomorrow, you will be a bankrupt parking lot for the World Bank."
Alex opened the briefcase. Inside wasn't cash. It was a single document. A Treaty of Abdication.
"I will pay off your entire national debt," Alex said. "I will inject $50 Billion into your infrastructure. I will make your citizens the richest people in Europe."
"And in return?"
"In return," Alex pointed to the treaty. "You abdicate. You name me the Sovereign Ruler of San Solara. And you give me your Diplomatic Passport."
The room was silent. The only sound was the buzzing of a fly and the Prince's heart beating.
RING-RING.
The Prince's red phone rang. "Don't answer that," Alex warned.
Marco picked it up anyway. "Hello?"
"This is the UN Secretary General," a voice screamed from the phone, loud enough for Alex to hear. "Do not sign anything! We have Interpol teams landing on your island right now! If you sign a deal with Alex, we will blockade you!"
Marco looked at the phone. He looked at Alex. He looked at the crumbling walls of his palace.
"Mr. Secretary," Marco said, his voice trembling. "You offered me austerity. He offered me salvation."
Marco hung up. He signed the paper.
[System Alert!] [Transaction Complete.] [Expenditure: $70,000,000,000 (Crypto/Gold Reserve).] [Asset Acquired: The Nation of San Solara.] [New Status: Head of State.] [Passive Effect: 'Sovereign Immunity' (Global Law Enforcement cannot touch you).]
CRASH.
The windows of the palace shattered as a team of heavily armed Interpol agents repelled into the room. "Freeze!" The lead agent screamed, pointing a rifle at Alex. "Alex! You are under arrest for violation of UN Sanctions! Put your hands up!"
Alex didn't move. He was checking his fingernails.
"Arrest him!" The agent yelled at his team.
"Stop," Alex said softly.
He turned around. He wasn't smiling anymore. He looked regal.
"Officer," Alex said. "Do you know where you are?"
"I'm in San Solara, and I have an international warrant!"
"Wrong," Alex held up the signed treaty. "You are on the private property of King Alex the First. And you just invaded a sovereign nation."
The agent hesitated. "What?"
"By the laws of the Geneva Convention," Alex stepped forward, pushing the rifle barrel away with his finger. "Diplomats and Heads of State are immune to arrest. If you touch me, it is an Act of War."
The agent looked at Prince Marco. Marco nodded silently. The agent looked at his radio. "Command... he... he bought the country. What do we do?"
There was only static on the radio. The UN had no protocol for this.
"Get out of my house," Alex ordered. "And tell the Council of Five that if they want to talk to me, they can schedule a summit."
The agents lowered their weapons. They had to. The law was the law. They retreated.
Alex walked to the balcony and looked out at his new island. The sun was setting, painting the ocean gold.
"Dawn," Alex tapped his earpiece.
"Yes, Your Majesty?" Dawn replied, updating his title instantly.
"The sanctions are void. Unfreeze the accounts. And order some concrete. We are going to build a new capital."