Late at night, in a villa on the outskirts of New York, light particles swirled back together and Ivan stepped out of thin air.
The second he got back, Ivan grabbed his phone and called that Michelin-starred restaurant he always hit up. "Maine seared scallops, charred ribeye... Handle the drinks yourselves. I want everything here in under an hour."
"Yes, sir. We’ll arrange it imdiately. Please wait just a mont."
Ivan hung up, dropped into the chair at his computer desk, and opened his work inbox.
Not many emails.
The Doppelganger had dumped everything he wasn’t cleared to touch straight into Ivan’s lap.
He skimd the ssages. Two main jobs. First, kill the dia firestorm from The Deep’s sexual harassnt ss.
Second, steer the online narrative on Translucent’s death.
Both emails ca directly from Vought VP Madeline. Their weight was obvious. If Ivan had to bet, these two scandals had just taken a massive shit on Vought’s stock price.
This was a make-or-break mont for Madeline’s promotion. Stan Edgar had already publicly stated he was stepping down as CEO in the second half of the year, and right now she was the top candidate to replace him.
Still, the final decision rested with the Vought board of directors.
And those greedy bastards only cared about one thing: whether their shares went up or down. The current situation was bad for Madeline. She needed to fix the stock price, and fast.
Of course, she had plenty of dirty tricks ready.
Just the USB the Doppelganger had given Ivan contained enough blackmail material on several board mbers to bury them.
But she couldn’t use that shit lightly. If the other directors found out she was moving behind their backs, they’d kick her out on her ass in a heartbeat.
Sending Holander to threaten them would be even worse. It would blow up in her face completely. Knowing that fucking psycho, leaving even one or two of them breathing would count as him showing rcy.
Holander had no patience for negotiations.
That kind of move was pure stupidity, and Madeline had never planned on using it to seize the CEO chair.
"Holy shit, it’s blowing up online," Ivan muttered.
Translucent was trending hard everywhere — YouTube, Twitter, the works. He scrolled through the chaos. The theories about how the invisible supe actually died were completely unhinged.
So swore he wasn’t dead at all, just blacklisted by Vought for trying to break his contract.
Others claid Holander got tired of his shit and killed him.
That one actually sounded half-plausible to Ivan.
The two fan camps were already at each other’s throats, practically ready to throw hands in real life.
Then there were the even crazier takes.
Almost nobody bought Vought’s official story. Translucent killed by underground extremists hiding in New York? Co on. Even the dumbest fans knew the guy was bulletproof.
People felt like Vought was pissing on their intelligence.
"Heh~ No wonder Madeline’s panicking with this much noise," Ivan said.
His phone buzzed. The food had arrived.
Don’t give him that "Michelin restaurants don’t deliver" crap. In Ivan’s world, that just ant you weren’t rich or connected enough. As a Vought executive, he had that pull.
"Thanks," Ivan said, eting the delivery guy at the villa gate. He pulled out a fat tip from his pocket.
"Providing the best service possible is always our restaurant’s philosophy," the delivery man replied with a smile. He was a middle-aged white guy. "Na’s Sheffield. I’m actually the manager. Been in xico learning new dishes, so I haven’t had the chance to et you in person until now. Glad to finally fix that."
"You’re too kind. Co in."
Ivan didn’t smoke or drink much, but good food was one of his few real pleasures.
He was a regular at all the top spots in New York, and because he was such a picky bastard, plenty of head chefs knew him by na.
After so small talk, Sheffield gave a bitter laugh.
"With all this environntal activism lately, even my restaurant’s taken hits. Got spray-painted to hell. Cost us tens of thousands in damages. Called the cops, but it doesn’t do shit. They’re like flies — chase them off and they just co right back."
"Look, I feel for you," Ivan said, taking a calm sip of the whiskey the restaurant had sent over. It was actually damn good — rich and layered. "But they’re just kids. Being stupid cos with the territory. They’ll probably calm down eventually."
"You’re right, Mr. Greevs," Sheffield said, raising his glass politely. "Honestly, I’m not against environntalism. My whole family are strong supporters. It’s just their thods that are too extre."
He gave Ivan a hopeful look. "I heard you’re the head of Talent Managent at Vought. Any chance you could put in touch with The Deep? He’s, after all, the great ocean environntal ambassador, right?"
Sheffield, the old cunning bastard, finally let the mask slip.
Of course the Michelin manager wouldn’t play delivery boy himself unless he wanted sothing.
"Exactly," Ivan replied with a sly grin.
"But his schedule’s slamd right now. Might be tough to fit you in anyti soon."
Greedy little fucker, Sheffield thought, forcing a smile.
"By the way, I brought a small gift for you, Mr. Greevs. Don’t even think about refusing." He pulled a sleek black box from inside his jacket and handed it over.
"You’re too kind. Having you co all this way is already plenty."
Ivan’s mouth said the polite thing, but his hand took the box without hesitation.
"Just a little sothing. Consider it my way of saying nice to finally et you," Sheffield said, still smiling like a shark.
"I think The Deep would be open to working with your restaurant. Co by Vought tomorrow — I’ll greet you personally."
"Perfect. I’ll be there on ti."
They both stood and shook hands.
Ivan chuckled. "With The Deep as your new face, I’m sure your place will shoot straight to the top of those eco-friendly restaurant lists."
"I have no doubt," Sheffield replied.
The two n shared a knowing smile. No need to say the quiet part out loud.
____
[]~(￣▽￣)~*
Read 12 Advance Chapters—P@t- Captain69
User Comments
0 comments from readers