Arken Lussk
Thrills, Chills, and Kills
Swallowed Up
Hellhound Strategic HQ, O'Reen
THWACK!
Two balled fists thudded against a wooden desk, rattling the dainty cups of tea atop it. The steaming liquid, still untouched, swirled violently."Why am I not in his office just yet?" Arken snarled, sending the receptionist a glare. "Hm?"
The young woman, obviously disheveled, made a valiant attempt to look busy. Shuffling papers and brushing a stray strand of auburn locks away from her forehead. "The Chairman hasn't been in... in years, sir. He's never here."
Arken chuckled. "What exactly do you mean years? He's the chief executive of a frakkin' corporation, yet you folks still seem to stay afloat without much work. No contracts, no contacts, nothing of that sort." He held up a finger to preemptively silence her, "I know you don't, I've done my research quite thoroughly. You're a sinking ship."
The receptionist made an attempt to smile politely. "Who shall I fetch for you then, Mr. Lussk?"
"Whoever can answer my questions," he replied, "I've just got questions and answers."
"Threedee Four has been acting in the chairman's stead while he's been away, sir." She offered, "He should be in his office right now."
Arken nearly shattered the wooden table that instant. Why hadn't this feeble-minded fool directed him to his replacement then? Why had she gone through the trouble of making him very, very irritated. This was no trip to the doctor's office where you waited patiently in the lounge - this was a business establishment that prided itself in "lethal efficiency" of all things. Pathetic.
"Of course, I'd love to talk to him." He smiled sweetly.
With that, the woman hurriedly hailed her boss. The synthetic voice didn't seem too pleased with this interruption, but agreed to meet with the young man and his companion waiting the floor below.
Spinning on his heels to make for the grav-lift, he craned back to rub a little salt into the wound: "I'll be sure to mention a reward for your exceptional performance, miss."
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Victor opened the door for him, with his young master hotly strolling inside the executive's office with impunity. Before him sat the usual affairs. Luxurious furniture, a nice coffee table, and very plush chairs. Seated behind the desk was exactly what he was expecting: a droid. One of those 3D-4X models, supposedly the best thing for sector administration since that G0-T0 fiasco. "I've been expecting you, Mr. Lussk."
"Is that so?" He arched a brow, moving to occupy a chair. He kicked back, stretching his arms across the back of it. "Then you must understand why I'm here as well, shouldn't you?"
The gold-plated droid leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. "I've a few guesses, perhaps you could narrow them down for me in a moment?"
"It'd be my pleasure. Now," he cleared his throat, "Tell me about Hellhound's recent affairs. I've heard they've been rather... wanting."
Threedee nodded his chromed head. "Somewhat. We get by with some small contracts, low-profile defense contracting and the like. Nothing too extravagant or outrageous."
"So, stagnation?"
"That's one word for it." He waved a hand, "I prefer sustainment. We're waiting for the chief executive to return."
"And he's been gone for how long?"
"Approximately thirteen galactic standard years."
Arken smiled, pulling his arms inwards to rest in his lap. "I've come with a proposition. Two, actually. The first is a partnership of sorts. Aegis Systems provides the work and you simply front the organic manpower and expertise. We need some good, well-trained folks that know how the galaxy works."
"And the second?"
"A simple takeover," he grinned, "I'm very well prepared to separate your head from your torso this very instant. Victor here will forge your signature on official letterhead and Hellhound will be absorbed into Aegis Systems instantly. All assets and personnel will be under my employ."
Threedee took a few moments to process that. He didn't shift or reach for a weapon, much to Arken's dismay. Rather, the droid mulled over his offers. Threedee knew he was very capable of both, but where would that leave him in the grand scheme of things?
"What else do you want?"
"Schematics, designs, and the rights to manufacture your products as well." He raised his hands in mock surrender, "And Hellhound will receive a forty percent cut of the profits as well, so no need to worry about that."
"I think..." Threedee hesitated, "I will accept."
The young man beamed brilliantly. Even hyper-intelligent droids could make hyper-intelligent decisions. The moment that synthetic voice spoke, Victor was already crossing the room with their previously drawn-out contract. It listed all of the technical pleasantries, detailing cuts and profit margins for their plans. Expectations and such were also outlined within it.
Arken rose to stand as Threedee inked the piece of flimsi.
"Some of my associates should be here shortly to help ensure things move smoothly. A pleasure doing business with you, sir."