The Shareholder's Proposition
"Welcome, Lord William! Thank you for your hard journey here."
After entering Slough in Kana's vehicle, we drove another five minutes to our destination—a rundown strip mall on the outskirts of town. The moment I stepped out of the car, I spotted a woman with light purple bobbed hair and sky-blue eyes. Dressed in a crisp business suit, she greeted me warmly.
It was a bit of a breach of etiquette, but I pointed to the back seat first and said, "Thank you for the warm welcome. By the way, I asked for medical personnel on the way here because one of my companions is injured."
"Ah, Ronin will be transported straight to a medical facility. As for the ACS-6H, though, we don't have anyone available to repair her right now..."
"Ah, Bell's fine. She's got nanotechnology that allows some self-repair. Just take good care of Mr. Ronin, please. One moment."
Vectra Corp, which had been involved in Bell's creation, held an edge over Anastasis precisely because of that nano-tech. Originally developed for regenerating biological tissue, it had proven applicable to machines too—and the prime example was the ACS-6H model, Bell herself.
I headed back to the car to fetch her. The door slid open smoothly as I approached. Come to think of it, it was time to say goodbye to Kana.
"Take good care of Master, Kana. It wasn't exactly a safe ride, but thanks to you, we escaped in one piece. Really grateful."
I leaned Bell against my shoulder and eased her out of the car. The door shut behind us. An emoticon of Kana waving appeared on the window. I waved back, and the Techno-King pickup truck rumbled leisurely off down the road.
I watched it go for a moment, then turned to the purple-haired woman who had come to greet me.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. Shall we introduce ourselves properly now?"
She introduced herself as Kate Coleman. She worked in Transco's security division as a section chief.
Coleman led me to the basement of one of the ordinary storefronts, with Bell slung across my back as we rode the elevator. She glanced at me in surprise and said, "Lord William, you must be quite strong to carry that heavy robot yourself."
"Oh come on. Bell's actually pretty light—like a feather. I could probably piggyback her and run if I had to."
"Hehe, witty too. You two must be pretty close."
I'd reflexively defended Bell's honor. In fact, before Coleman started guiding us, she'd offered to carry Bell herself. Even after I refused, she insisted, so I let Bell lean on her shoulder—but the moment I let go, Coleman nearly toppled over. I'd barely caught her in time to avert disaster.
That said, she didn't strike me as someone without the confidence to try. If anything, she seems heavily augmented for combat.
How did I know? When we handed Bell off and our bodies brushed, I got a clear scan of her internal structure down to the finest detail. Built-in firearms in her arms, blades in her legs, boosters at the joints. The info flooded in like data syncing to a neural implant, flashing into vivid images in my mind.
I'd been able to assess Bell's damage the same way, thanks to this... whatever superhuman ability it was. I'd thought my reconstituted body had purged all electronic components, but apparently not. Mysterious.
> Ding-dong. Basement Level 5. Basement Level 5.
As confusion swirled in my head, the elevator chimed arrival. The doors opened to an entrance flanked by guards armed with rifles and body armor. Coleman stepped out first and whispered something to them, then turned to me.
"Ms. Isabella is waiting inside. You can go right in and talk."
"Ms. Isabella—the Transco executive?"
"Yes, you could say that. In the meantime, I'll take Bell—"
"No, I'll keep Bell with me. She might freak out if she wakes up surrounded by strangers."
More precisely, she might wake swinging and start a brawl, but I didn't get into those details.
"Understood. I'll relay that via comms."
Coleman touched her temple. A brief silence followed, then the guards opened the door. We were cleared to enter.
"Pleased to meet you, Stratford Earl. Is that your favorite doll you're carrying? Tough break."
"You know damn well who I am, so drop the act. What should I call you, my dear sir?"
Following Coleman's lead inside, we entered an office-like space, then another room that turned out to be a reception area. It lacked any real elegance for hosting guests—just white marble walls and a few pieces of furniture upholstered in genuine leather.
At the head of the table sat a man with swept-back gray hair and sunglasses, legs crossed. He wore a black dress shirt and slacks sans jacket, accented by a red tie. He looked surprisingly young—early thirties, maybe.
He replied in a deep, brooding voice.
"Just call me Shareholder. It makes our relationship crystal clear."
Shareholder
"Got it, Mr. Shareholder. Skip the 'earl' and just call me William."
Ah, a stockholder activist type? That tracked.
"Very well. Sit down, Lord William. I'm a busy man. The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner you can rest."
I approached the long sofa beside his seat at the head. I carefully settled Bell, then took the spot next to her. Shareholder spoke up.
"I may have been harsh before, but I have no doubt our interests align. Your goal is revenge on Anastasis, right?"
"Spot on. But if our interests align, does that mean revenge is your aim too?"
"Something like that. But first, there's something you need to know. How do you think your father's company funded the war?"
What did that mean? I hadn't seen detailed financials on war expenditures, but Elson Management was an investment firm. Even with subsidiaries, the parent had to foot the bill. Profits mostly went to investors and shareholders; retained earnings alone couldn't sustain a war. They'd likely used existing or new investments as military funds.
"Investments, I assume. Was it your money?"
"Sharp one. Quick on the uptake— I like that. During the war, Elson launched three blind funds on its own initiative, and toward the end, they even opened a dedicated war fund to raise capital. We kept pouring money in—"
"And then Elson lost, tanking everything? Anastasis refused to repay the investments."
"Yeah, those fucking bastards! We never expected the crazy sons of bitches to break taboo and storm into the City!! Not only no repayment—they seized the remaining funds as 'damages'!!"
Shareholder slammed his fist on the armrest with a bang! So much for setting the mood; losses stripped away any pretense. His trembling form evoked a wailing clown. If Anastasis hadn't seized Elson HQ, they could've liquidated to recoup principal. But Anastasis ruined even that. So they'd rescued me, holder of Elson's shares, as a last resort.
I wouldn't badmouth them for still chasing principal after all that.
"I get you're eyeing my voting rights, but to force Anastasis to honor them, you'll need serious muscle."
"Exactly. Truth be told, springing you was the best we could manage alone. But folks in my shoes are banding together everywhere."
Folks in his shoes—like a Thames diver club? I hadn't anticipated this backstory. Transco was probably turning a blind eye to my escape, persuaded by them. But Anastasis's City invasion showed resolve. Recognizing my voting rights meant spitting out the Elson they'd swallowed. Would they yield that easily?
Snap. A finger-click echoed, and the lights went out. As I scanned the sudden darkness, a projector from the ceiling beamed light across the walls. Where the fixtures had been, a projector now hummed.
Shareholder spread his arms triumphantly and declared, "As you know, Europe has a fine tradition of not letting anyone hog the whole cake. This is no different."
"So they're stepping up to reclaim Elson for me?"
"Of course. Once you're ready, they'll raise their voices to put everything right. That's where our interests align."
"And what do you want in return?"
From the shadows, a sly chuckle preceded his answer.
"I told you before. We won't take more than our due. Our investment principal! The interest accrued! And a modest service fee. That's all we ask."
His firm declaration convinced me.
This guy's a con artist.
