Season 2 chapter 19
Arrested Aristocratic Boot Licker
The morning sun was shining brightly through the thick layer of industrial smog over the capital city of Seistain. A dozen Seistain Police steam-transports were swarming the steps of the Department of Commerce, their pressure-whistles screaming as officers aggressively shoved the bleeding Head Director into the back of a heavy iron wagon.
Kniya and Malesh walked right past the chaos, completely ignoring the flashing brass lights.
Kniya stopped at a public federal telegraph station on the street corner. He tossed a silver coin onto the operator's desk. "Priority wire to the Antrious Hub, Kavilson Steel Headquarters. Direct to the Vice President's office."
The operator scrambled to the brass key, tapping rapidly as Kniya dictated the message: "CRISIS HANDLED. WAIVERS SECURED. TELL THE LAWYERS TO GO HOME."
The Courier Delivery
Miles away, at the massive industrial headquarters of Kavilson Steel, Filoska Vinten was buried behind her sprawling oak desk. She had a mountain of logistics manifests to approve for the SuliBulli fleet, but she couldn't focus. The threat of the Anti-Monopoly Act was a guillotine hanging over her neck. The government was supposed to be shutting their entire empire down today. She had spent the last thirty-six hours drafting desperate legal defenses, downing cold black coffee, and bracing for the federal raid.
A sharp knock at her office door interrupted her panic. A private corporate courier stepped in, out of breath, carrying a heavy, wax-sealed parcel.
"Priority post, Ms. Vinten," the courier said, placing the thick envelope on her desk. "Direct from the capital. Mr. Kniya paid a private rider triple the standard rate to deliver this physical copy directly to your hands."
Filoska frowned, waving the courier away. She grabbed her brass letter opener and sliced the heavy paper open. She expected a federal summons. She expected an arrest warrant.
Instead, she pulled out a thick stack of official government parchment. Her tired eyes scanned the bold, stamped ink: Official Waiver of the Anti-Monopoly Act. Full Approval of Corporate Sovereignty. And right there, at the very bottom, was the wet-ink signature of the Head Director of Commerce himself.
Filoska slowly lowered the document. She took off her reading glasses, her jaw physically dropping.
"How..." she whispered to the empty room, her voice trembling. She read the signature again just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating from the lack of sleep.
She knew they were ruthless, but this? You don't just ask the government for a monopoly waiver. You buy it. But how in the world did two twenty-five-year-olds manage to bribe the highest financial authority in the Republic in under an hour? Did they buy the guards? Did they buy the Treasury?
Filoska let out a breathless, half-crazed laugh, tossing the waivers onto her desk. She sank back into her leather chair, staring at the ceiling.
"They are completely, utterly out of their minds," Filoska muttered, running a hand through her ruined hair. "Those absolute, psychotic lunatics just bought the entire federal government."
The 5 Million Credit Hit
Back on the street, Kniya and Malesh stopped at a local vendor. Kniya tossed the man a two-credit coin and grabbed two glass bottles of iced orange soda from the icebox. He popped the metal caps off on the edge of the cart, handing one to Malesh.
Kniya took a massive gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ah, fuck. Nothing tastes better than crushing a bureaucrat before lunch."
Malesh took a slow, methodical sip of his orange drink. He looked at Kniya.
"You owe me five million credits," Malesh stated flatly.
Kniya choked on his soda, coughing violently. He wiped his chin, looking at his business partner like he had just grown a second head. "Excuse me? I owe you what?"
"Five million," Malesh repeated, holding up his glass bottle. "I wired ten million credits through the Central Bank to the Commerce Department's tactical security team yesterday to ensure they betrayed the Director. We are fifty-fifty partners. Therefore, your financial burden for this operation is exactly five million credits. I expect a physical bank draft by the time we reach home."
"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Kniya yelled, gesturing wildly with his free hand. "I am not paying you shit! I did the heavy lifting! Did you see how I kicked that mahogany desk? Did you see the intimidation? I carried that entire room on my back, bro! My psychological warfare alone was worth ten million!"
"You threw a metal paperclip and chewed gum," Malesh corrected, his voice completely deadpan as they continued walking down the cobblestone sidewalk. "That is not psychological warfare. That is a lack of focus. I am the one who orchestrated the betrayal of the federal guards. Pay up."
"Fuck off! You are the accountant!" Kniya argued, shoving Malesh's shoulder as they walked. "It was your job to handle the logistics! I'm the muscle! I dodged a fucking bullet for us!"
"You ducked," Malesh countered, taking another sip of soda. "Gravity did most of the work. Five million credits, Kniya. Or I am physically seizing the capital from Kavilson Steel's primary vault."
"You send your men near my steel vaults, and I swear to God I will cut off your oil rigs from my structural supply!" Kniya threatened, glaring at him.
"I will freeze your refineries," Malesh fired back instantly.
"I will blockade your private coal trains!"
"I will increase the cost of diesel for your locomotive fleet by four hundred percent."
They kept bickering, insulting each other's business models, throwing petty threats back and forth the entire walk to their massive, private estate. By the time they unlocked the heavy, iron-wrought front doors of their mansion, the argument hadn't cooled down at all.
"I'm not paying it!" Kniya shouted, tossing his keys onto the marble entryway table and taking his suit jacket off. "I am absolutely not paying five million credits to a guy who currently owns twenty percent of the planet's oil!"
"It is the principle of the matter!" Malesh yelled back, finally showing a crack in his robotic demeanor. He ripped his silk tie off. "We split operational costs! Give me the fucking money!"
"Come take it from me, you greedy bastard!"
Kniya grabbed a massive, heavy velvet throw pillow from the living room sofa and launched it with the force of a professional athlete.
WHAM.
The heavy velvet pillow caught Malesh right in the face, knocking his glasses completely askew.
Malesh froze. Slowly, he reached up and fixed his glasses. His dark eyes locked onto Kniya. The cold, calculating billionaire vanished, instantly replaced by the street kid from the Seistain slums.
"Tactical assault authorized," Malesh whispered.
Malesh dove sideways, grabbing two thick couch cushions as Kniya launched another pillow like an artillery shell. It crashed into a million-credit antique gramophone, knocking the brass horn to the floor, but neither of them cared.
"Move! Move! Move!" Kniya screamed, vaulting over a leather recliner and taking hard cover behind a massive oak coffee table. "Incoming fire!"
"Flanking maneuver!" Malesh yelled back, sliding across the polished marble floor in his socks. He popped up from behind a decorative pillar and hurled a heavy, memory-foam cushion. It curved through the air and slammed into Kniya's shoulder.
"Argh! I'm hit! Man down!" Kniya laughed hysterically, blindly throwing a decorative blanket over the table to blind Malesh. "Covering fire! Cover me!"
"Die, you cheap bastard!" Malesh shouted, sprinting across the living room, wildly dual-wielding pillows and battering Kniya's barricade.
It was an absolute warzone. Feathers were flying into the air, gas-lamps were knocked over, and the two most powerful, terrifying men in the Republic of DI were screaming like twelve-year-olds, completely destroying their own living room.
Malesh ducked behind a mahogany side table to dodge a vicious, two-handed pillow strike from Kniya. He scrambled to grab another cushion from the floor, but his hand hit something smooth and slick.
It wasn't a pillow.
Malesh paused, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. He looked down.
Sitting perfectly centered on the floor, hidden beneath a fallen newspaper, was a highly unusual envelope. It was made of a strange, heavy, semi-translucent parchment, sealed with a massive, crimson wax crest that Malesh had never seen before in the Republic.
Malesh wiped the sweat from his forehead. He picked up the envelope. Through the material, he could faintly read the bold, black ink on the official letterhead inside: MALESH ENERGY LIMITED - EYES ONLY.
"Hey! Eat this!" Kniya yelled, leaping onto the couch and preparing to drop a massive cushion on Malesh's head like an elbow-drop.
"Kniya. Cease fire," Malesh said, his voice instantly dropping back into its cold, serious tone.
"Never surrender!" Kniya roared, mid-air.
"No, seriously. Kniya, stop," Malesh ordered, holding up the strange envelope.
Kniya landed awkwardly on the floor, panting, his hair a total mess. He noticed the shift in Malesh's tone and immediately dropped his pillow. He walked over, brushing feathers off his suit trousers.
"What is that?" Kniya asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the strange crimson crest. "Did someone break in while we were at the Commerce Department?"
"The perimeter locks are fully engaged," Malesh said quietly, his mind racing through the mathematical impossibilities. "No one from the Republic could bypass our iron gates without triggering the mechanical alarms."
Malesh cracked the heavy wax seal. He slid the thick, expensive parchment out of the envelope and unfolded it.
His dark eyes scanned the text rapidly. As he read, the color slightly drained from his face.
"Well?" Kniya demanded, leaning over to look. "Is it another federal threat? Do I need to buy a judge this time?"
"No," Malesh whispered, his voice incredibly tight. "It is not from our government."
Malesh handed the letter to Kniya.