LATEST UPDATE
Hollywood darling Helen Destraule has been killed in a room at the Excelsior Safe III Hotel by a DNSF agent while in the company of Vincent Newflower, the newly appointed CEO of the Messalion conglomerate. The agent in question was reportedly shot dead by police, though this information has yet to be confirmed.
Still on the subject of Messalion, the group finds itself today at the center of a financial storm: it has just emerged that a hostile takeover bid has been launched against Active Networks, its flagship autonomous subsidiary. According to rumors circulating on Wall Street Global, even the parent company could soon fall into the hands of the bidder—a coalition of several investment firms, including Kashgari Strategic Finance, controlled by the well-known businessman John Kashgari. It’s worth noting that shares in both Active Networks and Messalion have plummeted by more than 10% on most global stock exchanges following the Excelsior scandal.
Meanwhile, some of Messalion’s major shareholders are already raising doubts about the board’s ability—particularly that of its newly tarnished CEO—to steer the conglomerate out of these troubled waters. Our mergers and acquisitions specialist, Steve Khan, is here to break it all down for you. Steve?
DAN ACKERSON CLUTCHES HIS HEAD.
The images flicker across the walls of the DNSF headquarters.
Shit.
What the hell did I do to deserve this?
Pearl’s cover is blown, Newflower knows who she is, and the whole goddamn plan is in ruins. Kashgari and his allies played their hand hard—and screwed everyone. But who exactly are his allies?
The night’s chaos still plays in his head like a broken reel: Pearl flipping her chair, sprinting for the stairs, knocking a waiter straight into the vice president’s table. Shattering glass, shouts of protest. A relentless flood of alerts on the DarkNet—violent action in progress – agent exposed – immediate intervention. The auction hall descending into panic at the first gunshots.
Secret Service agents, on edge and trigger-happy, barking orders—"Everybody down!”—while elite strike teams storm in with a hurricane of flashing lights and wailing sirens, Boris Nadella leading the charge.
Albert, Ackerson’s aide-de-camp, shifts nervously from foot to foot.
“Dan, medical services found signs of life in Zantia. Specialists in neural repair and advanced prosthetics think they can restore thirty to forty percent of her functional capacity.”
“Good. Did we find out who she was working for? Who turned her? Where the hell did the order to execute Helen Destraule come from?”
Albert hesitates, then blurts it out. “The order came from us, Dan.”
Ackerson freezes. “…What?”
Albert hastily swipes at his tablet, enlarging the display with his fingers so Ackerson can see for himself:
19:49 – DNSF001 – H. Destraule, Suite 103, Excelsior Safe III – Immediate Red
Ackerson staggers back. DNSF001. His own goddamn authorization code.
Zantia had been carrying out a Red Order from him.
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The door swings open. A group enters uninvited—civilian suits and decorated brass, agency heads and press officers, all flanking Stuart Akuba, Chief of Staff to the President.
Ackerson exhales sharply. “You can go, Albert.”
The aide scrambles out.
Ackerson locks eyes with Akuba. “You here to tell me I’m fired, Stuart? Let’s get it over with. No need for sermons or speeches.”
Akuba raises a hand. “Yes and no, Dan. We need to talk.” He gestures toward the chairs. “Can we sit? Or are we supposed to stand here like a flock of flamingos?”
They settle in. Ackerson shuts off the wall screens, the cascading headlines and footage vanishing into black.
“Alright. Who’s first to deliver the closing arguments? I’m all ears.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Dan.” A pause. “Let’s get one thing straight: yes, you’re relieved of command. Too much noise, too much media heat. No need to spell it out.”
Ackerson leans back, expression unreadable.
“And?”
“Boris Nadella, director of the DarkNet Intelligence Bureau, will be taking your place. We just came from speaking with him. We know he’s competent, and that you hold him in high regard. But the President has a new role in mind for you: Presidential Military Advisor.”
Ackerson lets out a dry laugh.
“So you’re offering me a cushy desk job where I can rot away in bureaucratic senility?”
A three-star general leans in toward him.
“This isn’t about your career ego trip, Dan. The real question is—who do you think gave Captain Zantia Fisher that order? Because we know it wasn’t you.”
Ackerson tilts his head.
“And how exactly do you know that, Astrid? Maybe I decided to play both sides. Kashgari, WorldNet, the Hollywood clans, hell, even the mafia—it all pays well, doesn’t it?”
“Not funny. Someone hacked into the most secure sector of the DarkNet. They used your digital identity.”
Kevin Stromboli, head of DHS—the DarkNet Homespace Security—and keeper of the Toxic Wall, cuts in.
“If the breach came from outside, that means WorldNet took the risk of punching through the Toxic Wall. Why? If it came from inside, it means DarkNet’s highest authority is compromised. Could be both.”
Stuart Akuba gets up, pacing.
“The President wants Nadella to lead the investigation and take charge of the case, Dan. He’ll follow through on some of your priorities—like tracking down this ‘Protector’ who’s leaving a trail of destruction but whose real purpose is still murky.
“As a military advisor, sure, you’ll be a bureaucrat, but you’ll also have access to all the power players circling the administration. There are traitors in the mix. Your job would be to find them.”
Ackerson crosses his arms.
“You’re leaving something out. And spare me the grand speeches—I hate being talked down to. What’s in it for me?”
“You lost one of your agents. You were personally targeted. You’d get a new team.”
Akuba gestures to the others.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re done here. The press briefing is in ten minutes, and the President is waiting. Dan, let me know by the end of the day if you want to hunt down your enemies… or if you’d rather let your career and reputation go straight down the drain.”
Later that evening Isabel studies her husband over the rim of her wine glass.
“So you knew Kashgari was up to something. That’s why you wanted me to introduce Pearl to Vincent Newflower.”
Ackerson pours himself a bourbon—a telltale sign of stress—and exhales.
“Can we talk about something else, please? How about a movie tonight? Or the theater?”
Isabel scowls.
“Oh, don’t pull that ‘important man brushing off his wife’ routine. You dragged me into this bad opera. I have a right to know.”
“The idea was to infiltrate Pearl with Vincent Newflower to find out what the WorldNet was up to. Unlike his father, Vincent is pro-human and supports keeping the Separation Act intact. Messalion carries a lot of weight in that fight.”
“And Kashgari?”
“He was part of the potential threat, but I made the mistake of underestimating it. I thought I could nab blackmailers or manipulators working for the WorldNet and follow the trail. Little did I know that they would go so far as to commit murder.”
“And that’s why they fired you?”
“Among other things.” Ackerson drains his glass. “But I really want to go to the theater.”
Isabel looks at him with some confusion:
“Tell me, that agent who was killed was actually innocent, wasn’t she? You don’t seem very affected by her death...”
Ackerson clenches his fist:
“We were able to save her. I’ll personally see to it that those who did this to her are punished for their crimes when the time comes.”
Isabel’s expression softens. She leans in and offers her cheek for a kiss.
“A Brecht play is showing at a small venue twenty minutes away. Balcony seats are still available, with a seafood and vin gris dinner before the performance.”
As they get ready, Ackerson checks his messages.
Boris Nadella has officially assumed command. He’s chosen his deputy.
Pearl Maya. Promoted to major.
