M A N H A T T A N , N E W Y O R K
Less Than A Week Later | I Really Don’t Know How Much More Plainly I Can Put It… Manhattan, New YorkTora Olafsdotter and Beatriz da Costa strolled down 9th Avenue on a brand new day. This part of the city was slowly being repaired from the more cosmetic damages sustained from the recent disaster. It had avoided the worst of it. Nonetheless, glaziers’, hardware and paint stores’ business was booming.
“All I’m asking is that you give him a chance!” Tora exclaimed.
Bea looked nonplussed.
“You keep saying that. I’m just saying, he’s not terribly impressive.”“Back on this again…” Tora soured.
Bystanders watched the pair pass, Bea was dressed in a crop top and tight green pants that accentuated her striking green hair. Tora was dressed in a royal blue blouse, that played to the bright New York day. The pair looked fine, but it was Bea who caught the eye of most male passers by.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” She said.
“It’s not all about how he looks. There’s more to him than that.”“I’d certainly hope so. Otherwise your entire argument is a doughy, short, geeky nerdboy with a horrible Baaawwwston accent.”“I think he’s cute…”“You would…”“He’s trying…”“And that’s the best thing you can say about him! He’s a trier. A lot of people try. It doesn’t mean anything good is going to come out of it.”Tora looked hurt.
“Bea, please…” She looked up at her larger Brazilian friends with big sad eyes.
“Oh don’t look at me like-- damn. Alright. We’ll give him a chance. Just… stop whining about him. It’s beneath you. HE’S beneath you.”“Thank you!” She exclaimed, surprised that Bea had given in to her demands.
“You won’t regret this!”“I almost certainly will…” Bea replied.
“...but I’m not used to you actually digging your heels in to get what you want. It’s thrown me all off balance.”Tora bounced over and hugged Bea.
“Alright, alright… I just don’t get why it has to be THIS nerdboy. Give me another week and I think I could have brought Tony Stark to his knees…” Bea flashed her eyes provocatively.
“Eww…”“You keep saying that, but THERE’S a man…” She licked her lips.
“He’s clearly been around the block a few times, and I’m sure he could show you a thing or two you haven’t seen before. Maybe even me.”“But he’s so disgusting!” Tora winced.
“Pfft. Don’t be such a prude. I trust you won’t begrudge me from going there. We don’t have that job anymore, so it’s no longer unprofessional.” She licked her lips again and sent an onlooking male bystander walking the other way stumbling over some trash cans in the process.
“You wouldn’t!”“I would shake his world to its very core.” She said, raising her eyebrows to her Scandinavian friend.
“And what do you care, so long as it isn’t your doughy Baaawwwston nerdboy?”“Well, I guess I don’t… I wonder what it was Ted had in mind exactly?”
M E T R O P O L I T A N C O R R E C T I O N A L C E N T E R
- | Manhattan, New YorkAbner Jenkins snatched the cell phone from his cellmate.
“So $20 in commissary?”
“$20 in commissary.” Jenkins confirmed.
Two large inmates stood at the front of the cell as lookouts whilst Abner Jenkins made his call. He dialled a number from memory and waited for the dial tone to end with the person on the other end picking up the call.
“So… How does this change things?”
“You won’t be getting my help.” Abner spoke in hushed tones down the line.
“...but I didn’t snitch you out either.”“So you want just cold off the board? That’s what you’re telling me?” The voice asked.
“It seems fair. All things considered.”He heard a sigh breathed heavily down the line, which stole his breath as he heard it.
“That’s not really for you to determine though, is it?”
Jenkins pulled the phone away in horror. What had he just set in motion?
“...I’ll tell you what. If you don’t respond, everyone on the outside is off limits. Your wife, distant family, everybody.”
“Respond to what?”“When it happens, you’ll know.” clik.
The phone had gone dead.
“To what? TO WHAT??”“Hey, Jenkins… Keep it the fuck down! I’ve got a business to run here.” Hissed his cellmate between the two large men.
Abner Jenkins stumbled out of the cell in a daze. Something was going to happen, but what? When? He had a visit from his wife soon, was that it? Should he not go? Was something going to happen to her that he had to ignore?
No. It was unthinkable. Plus, he’d been told that if he didn’t respond to whatever it was his wife and family wouldn’t come to harm. Surely that implied that it wasn’t about Mimi. Right? Didn’t it?
Nevertheless it would be a difficult wait, dwelling on all of the worst things that might possibly come to fruition.
“Jenkins! Visitor!”
Or maybe not...
H O M E W O O D S U I T E S B Y H I L T O N N Y / M I D T O W N
- | Midtown Manhattan, New YorkTed put his shoes on and checked his tie and suit in the mirror. He left money for room service and a note for Rosita on the table in his hotel room, and stepped out into the hallway. The Star Trek intercom sound signalled a message on his phone, he pulled his phone out and checked it as he stepped into the elevator.
It was from Janet Van Dyne.
“Need to talk. Are you free?”
Ted stepped out of the elevator once he hit the lobby, waved to Julia who was back to working the check-in desk, and dialled Janet.
“You’re free to talk?”“I’m walking in public, so I might not say a whole lot. But I can hear you fine. What did you need to tell me?”Ted heard a deep sigh down the phone line.
“We have more news on the whole Scott Lang thing.” “Be careful how you tell him, Jan!” He could hear Hank yelling in the background.
“I’m telling him now. And yes, he knows you didn’t mean anything by it. It’s Ted. He’s your friend.”Now it was Ted’s turn to sigh.
“What is it?”“Well, when Hank heard about what you had been doing at nights in Boston - and we’re both really proud of you by the way, we saw what you did in the city… that was really something. You really met Wonder Woman?--”“Jan…” Ted pushed, getting frustrated.
“Well, that’s part of this whole thing. We’d been talking about how proud we were-- I’d been talking about how proud I was of what you were doing back when you first started. Making a difference… Well, Hank kind of-- you know Hank.”“Janet, what happened?” Ted begged her to get to the point, pinching the bridge of his nose and wincing as he walked.
“Well, as you know Hank had been off his meds at the time, and I guess he was also kind of jealous about the attention--” “I wasn’t jealous!” He heard Hank holler in the background.
“Well, what was it then if you weren’t jealous?” “Well, you were proud of what he was doing and were impressed by it, so I guess I figured that if you found that impressive--” “This sounds like jealousy.” “I wasn’t jealous! I just thought you’d like this too! I think! I wasn’t taking my--” “Oh hush. It’s not important anyway. Long story short, Scott Lang didn’t only steal the… Pym Particles. He also took a prototypical Particle Projector that Hank had developed.”“Particle Projector? Like with Bigass Bacon?”“Exactly. Except this one wasn’t just a stationary machine like with bigass bacon.”Here we go…“I’m not going to be happy with any of this, am I Jan?”“Probably not. Ted, it was a suit.”“ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Pedestrians walked on by. This was New York City. A man screaming in the street was far too mundane to warrant much more. "Pipe down, jackass." Uttered one bystander.
“What’s he doing? What did he say?” Hank walked over and asked Jan.
“He’s just screaming at the moment. I’m not getting any actual words yet.” Hank nodded, accepting it as fact and walked back to his workbench.
“So there’s a person out there who can shrink or grow at will. At the proportions of Bigass Bacon?” Ted thought back to the massive size of the plate of bacon on that day.
“Well, good news, no...” “Did you tell him about the conservation of energy limitations!” “I’m telling him now!” “Hank said--! Sorry… Hank said the conservation of energy principle should prevent Scott or anyone from growing too big, too fast without preparation, because the human metabolism wouldn’t be able to keep pace operating on that kind of scale. The bigger problem, ironically, should be if he shrinks.”“Why is that the bigger issue?”“Well, using the suit he should be able to shrink to sizes that might make him all but impossible to find, and he can also control his own mass. Technically he could potentially make himself an inch tall, and still at his regular mass, making him almost impossible to move since you’d be trying to get purchase on a one inch object at that weight. Shrinky Scott sounds like he’d be a lot trickier to deal with, than if he grew.”“Except if he grew he could step on me.”“Well, yes. But not for long. And he’d be tiring himself out trying.”“I think you have a far different idea of what counts as good news than I do, or you’re struggling with your tone of voice. You’re way too upbeat talking about a criminal trying to step on me.”“Well, there’s no point getting morbid about this kind of thing. I mean Hank feels terrible.” “Sorry, Ted!” “He just said that he’s sorry, did you hear that? Negative thoughts aren’t going to help fix this though, are they? Anyway, since this is partly our fault--”“Partly?!?”“Partly. You mixed Hank up with all your-- Beetle related hijinks!”Janet could only hear a muffled yell as Ted had covered the phone mic on his end to cry out in frustration.
“--as I was saying, since this is partly our fault, Hank’s coming up with something now that should let me give you a hand in bringing Scott in. So you won’t be all alone out there. Isn’t that something good? So, silver linings…”Ted mimed biting the phone in extreme frustration.
“Oh, that reminds me! You didn’t eat any of the Bigass Bacon did you?”“No, why?”“Well, I didn’t think so, due to the colossal organ failure that’s been turning up with Hank’s tests.” “Did he?” “I’m asking him! He said no!” “Oh good! I wouldn’t have thought so, what with the colossal organ failure and everything!” “Hank, please, I’m still on the phone.” “Sorry!” “You see, Hank’s had time to understand how exactly this works in greater detail. As he said, these ‘Pym particles’ they’re sub-atomic particles that are capable of transporting mass. But the thing is, what Hank is doing when he uses one of these particle projectors…”Ted stopped and leaned against a building in anticipation of the worst possible news, given how this conversation had gone.
“The ‘Pym Particles’ are omnipresent. They’re subatomic particles which exist in all things already. What he’s actually doing is activating those particles which already exist so that they transport vast quantities of mass.”Ted was still waiting for the punchline.
“And?”“Well, that’s just it. The process with the projector ensures a balanced activation of these ‘Pym particles’ across the whole. But there’s still effects when other things interact with activated Pym Particles. Especially through ingestion and absorption, but also through semi-permeable films, liquids, gases… Bacon grease is a really insidious thing, Ted. You weren’t handling it after the experiment were you?”Ted thought back.
“No.”“Good. I didn’t think so. Again, because of--”“The colossal organ failure. Yes, I caught that.”“Exactly. A swollen stomach… small intestine bursting out of your abdomen… Oesophagus that could expand and crush your own lungs… Bacon grease affected skin sloughing loosely off of your body... Still, no harm, no foul. Just glad you’re alright.”“So-- so much for feeding the world then, huh?”“Well, not necessarily. Hank just needs to find a way to restore the activated ‘Pym Particles’ to their natural state, once he’s used them to grow the initial food.”“So, deactivate them?”“Well, no. That probably wouldn’t be good either. I mean, these ‘Pym Particles’ are MEANT to be able to transport mass and matter. That’s what they do in nature. Sure not to the exponential degree that we have been using them, but Hank says it likely relieves pressure on a minute scale. So deactivating them completely probably wouldn’t be ideal either.”“Just-- please don’t destroy the universe. It has all of my stuff in it and I just got it how I like it.” Ted facepalmed.
“Ha!” Jan laughed.
“Always the jokester, Ted. Anyway, we’ll see you when you’re here next and we’ll go fix this Scott Lang problem...”
M A N H A T T A N , N E W Y O R K
Earlier, Mid-Crisis | Come on now… Manhattan, New York"Booster!" a panicked, electronic-sounding voice echoed through her ears as she began to regain consciousness. "Booster we have arrived!"
Her eyes opened tentatively, revealing the panic that had set into the city around her. She could see people running erratically, looking behind them as they did so. They were escaping something, that much was to be sure. But what? And, more importantly, where the hell was she? More, more importantly, who the hell was she? She had absolutely no recollection of who she was, where she was, or why she was here. That was worrying.
Suddenly, the world in front of her blinked out. The chaotic, yet living, city was replaced with one that was dead. Its buildings crumbled around her. Fire raged across the horizon revealing an apocalyptic hellscape. She turned frantically, searching for any sign of life. Had she just been transported to another world? Was she blinking from one existence to another?
Instead of the panicked citizenry of the last world, the only sign of life she saw here were the bodies that littered the city street. Some were in pieces, others lay under rubble, and some seemed to have been vaporized, leaving nothing but the outline of a person on the street from where something had merely wiped them from existence.
"Booster!"
The call of the voice cleared the vision from her eyes, and she was back in the midst of the earlier chaotic scene. In front of her hovered a shining, golden object. It looked like an egg sitting on a golden pedestal, with a blue, unblinking, electronic eye staring back at her, "Ma'am, we've reached our destination, but it seems we've come at, uh, quite an inopportune time. Shall we assist with the situation?"
She stood up, taking stock of how she felt. Outside of being disoriented, she felt fine. Whatever had happened to her hadn't affected her physically, just mentally. Taking stock of her surroundings, she looked past the fleeing people to see what they were running from. A pack of feral-looking people tore after the innocent ones, ready to tear them limb-from-limb.
"Sure...uhh," she looked at the robot.
"Skeets, ma'am," the robot sounded surprised.
"Skeets? Seriously?" her nose scrunched up. "Whatever. How do we help?"
"Do you not remember?" the blue eye fired a beam towards her, which scanned up and down. "Hm. It seems like our temporal travels have affected your memory. Tap the star on your necklace twice."
Looking down, she saw a blue, metal star handing from a gold chain around her neck. She took two of her fingers and tapped it twice. The star seemed to grow and melt across her body nearly instantly, covering her in a gleaming metal skin of blue and gold. She felt the cool metal climb up her neck and form a visor across her eyes. A heads up display began displaying the vitals of the feral humans approaching, showing that they were being controlled by some unknown force.
"We need to cut those hostiles off from the innocent people," she motioned down the street.
"Very well," Skeets bobbed up and down. "Shall I link up and refresh you on your suits capabilities?"
"Sure thing," she shrugged.
The egg swung around behind her, and she felt the metal on her back reconfigure as a port for the device. It hooked up, and instantly she shot up into the air a few feet and hovered there.
"Holy shit I can fly!?" she exclaimed with pure joy.
"You can do much more than that, Booster Gold," Skeets responded as the two of them shot off to intercept the pack of humans.
The pair landed between the pack of aggressors and the innocents. As they did, Booster's hands shot up, and suddenly a force field appeared around the raving group of people. She concentrated and the wall turned into a bubble, encasing them inside. To the AI, she asked, "Okay, any idea where we can put these guys where they're out of the
way?"
"Satellite imagery shows a construction site with a deep foundation pit two blocks to the east," Skeets replied swiftly.
"Perfect," she said and began lifting the bubble off the ground, flying with it. She could see the people inside who were scratching and clawing desperately at the force field's barrier. She could see the pure lunacy in their eyes. They wanted to rip her apart. A woman closest to the edge of the bubble was slamming her head against the barrier in a vain attempt to escape.
Approaching the crater in the street which easily fell a good twenty feet below the sidewalk, Booster placed the raving people inside.
"Skeets, any idea what's wrong with them?" she asked her companion.
"Scanning," the AI responded dutifully. After a moment, it continued, "There seems to be some inorganic matter attached to the brain stem of each affected individual. Readings show this is the reason for the heightened aggression."
"Can we get them out?" was the obvious next question.
"Not with our current arsenal of tools," Skeets answered swiftly. "Unless you would like to remove their heads with an energy blast."
"What!? No!" she yelled back at the AI. "We need to have a serious discussion about excessive force."
Booster surveyed the area. Whatever this was, it was something much bigger than her. At least she figured it was. But she could help. As she stood there thinking about the situation, something the robot had said to her turned a light bulb on.
"Skeets, you said we had 'temporal' travels?" she turned to the robot on her back. "Are we time travelers? Can we use your databanks to find out how to help here?"
"Of course ma'am!" the robot responded excitedly. "Processing..."
ZZZZZTTTTTTInterference ran through Booster's HUD and ear piece before coming under control.
"Skeets? What the hell was that?" she asked in a panic.
"Sorry, ma'am," the robot was apologetic. "I must be affected as well from our trip, but I have regulated. According to my records, the Roxxon Oil Building is about to be overrun! We can make it there in mere moments!"
"Oil company? Seriously?" she scrunched her nose again.
"Ma'am, thanks to the genius of Tony Stark, Reed Richards, and Ray Palmer, global warming will be solved in a few short years," Skeets explained. "Meanwhile, we can possibly get a reward for helping. We do need to eat and pay for shelter here, remember."
It was a good point. As far as she knew, the trip she took to come here was one way. She certainly didn't remember a way back, and the droid didn't seem to be hinting at the possibility either. She'd need to find a steady income. Plus, who wouldn't want to be famous? She could bleed the oil men off for everything they had and save the world. A real win-win, right? Especially if it gave her time to remember who she truly was.
"Okay, Skeets," she smiled. "Let's get paid."
A H I G H – R I S E O F F I C E
- | Location Undiscoled New YorkFine Italian leather strides. Cufflinks gleaming. Ash drops from 6 feet in the air. The classic 50s cut Brooks Brothers suit returned to the high-rise building, stuffed full of Farley Fleeter.
“It's out of the equation. You got what you wanted. So let’s talk contract.”The seat turned revealing the man in green. A unique haircut, the grizzled face of a man who’s gone to war in so many corporate board meetings, he could end most internal disagreements with a raised eyebrow, let alone a grimace or scowl.
“Do I have the B.E.E.T.L.E in my possession?”“It’s off the board. The market’s cleared.”“Do I. Have. The B.E.E.T.L.E. In my. Possession? That was the job. Steal the B.E.E.T.L.E armour. Return it to me. Do not try to change the terms of our deal to hide your failings... Frank.”Fleeter lit a fresh cigarette off the first, and levelled his eyes at the man in green seated opposite.
“This is better. It’s off the board, out of the market. Nobody’s looking for stolen property or you, because there is no stolen property. You’ve got a clear path. You’re welcome.”Osborn looked at the smarmy ad man who was so brazenly trying to move the goalposts. He wouldn’t raise his voice. He wouldn’t stand. He wouldn’t do him the courtesy of treating him as enough of a nuisance for either to be necessary.
“I suppose you haven’t failed yet. But this certainly wouldn’t qualify as a success. You have been effective in your own form, even if you didn’t do the job. So what would you have me do in this regard?” Osborn posed the rhetorical question.
“You’ve had people’s livelihoods in your hands before, Fleeter. I mean, like myself, you’ve run your own business. So what would you do if you had a bunch of people who show early signs of promise, without actually achieving their tasks?”Osborn turned his back to the well dressed advertising agent, rotating in his seat to overlook the city below.
“Probation. The B.E.E.T.L.E suit was seized as evidence. We’ll draw up the short term contract for Farley Fleeter Advertising Agency. I think you might find the contract’s final date might align itself with the conclusion of Abner Jenkins’ trial. I will have what I am owed, Fleeter. Or I will be the object of your unending horror. I will destroy your life, and your co-workers lives, and desecrate the ashes. I have dedicated myself to finding ways to make the lives of people who fail me remarkably uncomfortable in the past, you will understand just what that entails. Fleeter, you find me what I was promised or you will find me every bit the grotesque which disgruntled employees have claimed me to be and then some.”Sensing the terms would get no more favourable, Farley Fleeter turned and left the office. A smile grew across his face as he felt the weight of the Blue Beetle’s B.B. gun close in his pocket. A stay of execution and he hadn’t needed to give his secret chit away, this called for a drink.
T H E R O X X O N B U I L D I N G
Days After the Crisis | Manhattan, New YorkDario Agger, CEO of Roxxon Energy, strolled out to the podium in front of the skyscraper with his company's name on it in Manhattan. The crisis had past days ago, and the world was starting to come back to normal. But he couldn't be happier. His blinding, bleached teeth reflected the sun just as well as his silver, slicked-back hair. He had always been an oil man, and the business was good. Especially now that he was about to announce something special for the company.
"Well, I'm glad you all could come," he started his remarks. "A few days ago, we experienced something that was terrible beyond words. An attack on every innocent person in this city. The devastation and depravity of those that perpetrated this attack knew no bounds. But luckily, there were others here to protect us. Now, I know there are some out there in the media saying superheroes can't do us any good. That they're a menace. Bull hockey, I say! I saw so many of them trying to help us, and no more than this great woman!"
He motioned to the big screens that flanked the podium, and a highlight reel of Booster Gold's defense of the Roxxon Building played. People oohed and aahed, and rightfully so. She was impressive, as impressive as any superhero was. And now she was gonna be his ace in the hole, a new revenue stream from merchandising and endorsements. He couldn't believe his luck.
"That right there!" he continued. "That there is Booster Gold! The new superhero of Roxxon Energy!"
With that, Booster swooped over the crowd, giving them all a thrill. She pulled up over them and waved, posing for pictures as she did. If the oil man was fully sold on the arrangement, the hero still had reservations. She could use this situation to her benefit, sure. But there was still something gnawing at the back of her mind that there was something really wrong with the entire situation she had found herself in.
Not that she let that affect her smile. There was expectations when you were the face of a company.
H O M E W O O D S U I T E S B Y H I L T O N N Y / M I D T O W N
Less Than A Week Later | Midtown, New YorkTed’s sullen face blinked to life on the Conference Room 1 screen at K.O.R.D. East division courtesy of KORDEX. Although all things being equal he’d rather be somewhere else. He had a proxy sitting in for him at a land auction, the next step in his plans for life in his “other” suit, and nothing that would be discussed here in this meeting would be particularly pleasing.
Four faces showed on Ted’s screen. Whilst he and Jeremiah sat next to each other on laptops in one of the Hotel’s meeting rooms.
“Angela, is there anyway I could get you to scooch in next to Melody or Randall? You’re an indispensable part of these meetings as far as I’m concerned.”“Yes, Mister Kord.” She said, as she picked her things up and slid over next to Melody Case, the East Division’s President, forcing her to slide down closer to Randall Truman, before she stopped and chose instead to angle the camera towards the pair of them, leaving the Chief Marketing Officer with his own camera just to himself.
“Alright, at this point I’m pretty sure everyone here has made themselves familiar with the news pertaining to Abner Jenkins.”“Who would have known that the craggly old fart had it in him to be a supervillain, huh?” Randall Truman spoke up coarsely.
“Allegedly.” Ted spoke firmly, with a scowl in his eyes that came through towards everyone, but was clearly intended for Truman.
“And our legal department are in the process of discerning just how spurious those allegations are, Mister Truman. So we will do him the courtesy of not assuming all accusations are indiscretions. Innocent until proven guilty. The country does him that honour, and I think in light of his service and our friendship over these years, the least we could do is match that expectation.”Ted sighed and eased off as he updated the board on the facts.
“I’ve spoken with Legal and at this point the focus is mainly on looking to get him bail.”“Bail? Tony Stark had his employee Iron Man do this kind of thing all the time, what’s the issue?” Melody asked.
Ted sighed.
“The issue is that in the span of a week we can expect the Legal landscape has changed dramatically on how this kind of thing is seen. Obviously no new legislation has had the opportunity to be formed yet, but if you think that a judge isn’t going to be prejudiced by what happened down here then you’re living with your head in the sand.”“Can’t say he’s not a flight risk either...” Added Randall Truman.
“Mmm. Yes. Very helpful.” Ted muttered sarcastically at his Chief Marketing Officer’s complete lack of tact.
“The reason we’re having this meeting,” said Jeremiah Duncan into his laptop, restoring a sense of order to the meeting, “is to keep the full Board appraised on the situation and also to deal with the matter of the Chief Financial Officer position.”
“Yes. Thank you, Jeremiah. Abner was good enough to file his resignation as a result of this incident, for the benefit of this company he’s worked so hard for all of these years, and as a result we’ll be discussing the now vacant Chief Financial Officer position.”Ted eyed the monitors like a hawk waiting to see which one of the Director’s would first try and make their move. Curt Calhoun rocked forward to say something and Ted immediately cut him off before he could get a word out.
“But it will be a very short discussion…”“...I will be looking to fill this position from outside. Given the very public way in which this occurred I will be looking to preserve internal stability and not shuffle the deckchairs having multiple Senior Executives come to grips with new roles at the same time in the wake of this. I’ll be looking to interview candidates in the next week. I’m sure a few of you may be very disappointed to hear that this opportunity is being handled in this manner, but I assure you I have not made this decision lightly, and I’m making it with the best interests of this company in mind.”Melody spoke next, with a probing question, “Wouldn’t our shareholders be more concerned about our stability if they see us respond to such a situation by hiring such a prestigious position from without rather than within?”
“Quite possibly.” Ted replied.
“But under the current circumstances I’m more concerned with actual stability than perceived stability. I don’t see it as preferable for a new CFO to have to learn their role on the fly, with no proper hand-over - again, we can’t be sure that Abner will be able to get bail at this point - whilst simultaneously having a Division Director who’s responsible for on site management for a third of the company also coming to terms with their new role. I’m also familiar with everybody’s resumes here. Nobody here has ever held a Chief Financial Officer position in the past with the exception of Jeremiah and I couldn’t ask him to take that kind of hit. I won’t. Jeremiah’s going to be busy enough as it is in the coming days, and his experience will be invaluable in smoothing this public relations nightmare in the first place.”Ted paused to wait for a response or rebuttal from anyone in attendance, but none was forthcoming.
“Well, if there’s nothing else… Angela, could you see that the food goes to…”“The engineers? Yes, sir.”
“You know what, they had at it just last week. I think given the circumstances…”“Finance and accounts?”
“Got it in one, Angela.” Or two... On the bounce. Whatever.
Carapax and Calhoun’s monitors flicked off. As did Jeremiah’s. Ted could see Randall Truman walk past the two ladies and presumably out of the conference room.
“Ted, how are you feeling? I heard you took quite a beating.” Melody asked.
Kord was shocked by the question.
What did she know? How?“Hmm..?” He quickly tried to gather, pretending he hadn’t heard the initial question.
“Murray said Abner knocked you through a wall in the crossfire at the Expo.”
“Oh, I’m still a little sore, but I’ll be OK. Paramedics said I broke a rib and sprained my wrist landing awkwardly, but I can’t complain. Not with everything that happened out here over the last week.”“Oh Mr Kord, that’s terrible!” Angela chimed in with sympathy. Ted saw Melody’s concern drain away rapidly having now heard it wasn’t anything more serious. “Well, I’m glad you’re well. That’s all.” Melody said, somewhat more icily, as she organized her assorted folders into a neat stack and left, clutching them tightly to her chest.
“Have you heard from your father recently as well, Mr Kord?” Angela asked.
“Yes, just before I left to come to New York, in fact. We still keep in touch pretty often.” Ted said, looking down to his pocket as his phone vibrated. As the contact name scrolled across his phone he could make out the caller as
“--ord”“Just a second. Sorry. I have to take this real quick.” He held out a finger to the laptop camera as he answered his phone.
“Yes?”“The auction just finished.”
“And?”“And you’re now a New York land owner, kid.”
“Excellent. How much?”“7 and a half under your top price.”
“Oof.” Ted said, he went a little high, because he wanted to make sure he got it, but it was more than he’d expected.
“Alright though, I guess. I’ll talk to you later.”He finished replying to Angela.
“In fact, he’s probably the first person I’ll go and see when I land." He said with a smile as he clicked disconnect on the call he had taken with the contact name
“Maxwell Lord”.
"You know how it is. Make sure Dad knows his boy’s safe.” 
