Season 2 chapter 23
The Madman of the Docks
Kniya and Malesh stepped out of the massive iron gates of the Arvonian Maritime Museum, the salty ocean wind hitting their faces. They were just about to hail a steam-cab to the airstrip when Kniya suddenly stopped, squinting through the industrial smog.
"What the fuck is that guy doing?" Kniya muttered, pointing toward the edge of the dry-dock.
Standing dangerously close to the edge of the pier, staring up at the hull of a massive diesel dreadnought, was a man in a rumpled, oversized trench coat. But he wasn't just looking at the ship. He was moving in an incredibly bizarre, jerky manner.
He would take three rapid, stomping steps to the left, freeze, and violently crack his neck to the side. Then, he would drop into a deep, weird crouch, waving his hands in the air as if he were tracing invisible blueprints. He spun around in a full circle, muttering rapidly to himself, before pressing the side of his face flat against a rusted iron mooring bollard.
Kniya stared at him, completely weirded out. "Is he malfunctioning? Or just insane?"
Malesh observed the man with cold, clinical interest. "Look at the pacing. He isn't dancing. He is measuring the distance between the primary hull rivets using his stride length. The neck rotations are to calculate the angle of the armor plating against the sunlight."
"He looks like an idiot," Kniya snorted.
Curiosity getting the better of them, they walked over to the eccentric stranger.
"Excuse me, sir," Malesh said, his voice flat and polite. "Can you please tell us why you are contorting yourself on a public dock? What exactly are you doing right now?"
The man froze mid-crouch. He slowly turned his head, his eyes wide, highly caffeinated, and incredibly sharp.
"I am inspecting the structural integrity of the Arvonian naval fleet in the weirdest way possible," the man replied, standing up straight and violently cracking his knuckles. "It is a highly specific task given to me by my employer. Standard inspections miss the micro-fractures in the steel. You have to look at the ship like a rat, then like a bird, then like a mathematical equation."
Kniya raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Malesh. This guy was completely out of his mind, but he was undeniably smart.
"Okay," Kniya said slowly. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Kniya Anderson, and this is Malesh Bulwadi."
The man rapidly wiped his grimy hand on his trench coat and extended it. "A pleasure. Truly. I am Riovert Adion."
Kniya shook the man's hand, frowning slightly at the strange name. "Right. So, can you please tell me... what is your actual first name? Is it Riovert or Adion?"
The man stared at Kniya as if Kniya had just asked what color the sky was.
"My name is Adion, obviously," he stated, blinking rapidly. "Riovert is just a family designation. Don't you know how names work?"
"Obviously," Kniya muttered sarcastically, letting go of his hand. "Well, keep... dancing at the boats, Adion. We have a flight to catch."
"Watch the steel!" Adion called out as they turned away, immediately dropping back into a weird crouch to inspect a barnacle. "The rust never sleeps!"
The Long Flight Home
They didn't have time to dwell on the bizarre encounter with Adion. They boarded their heavy-propeller plane at the Arvonian airstrip, the massive diesel engines roaring to life as they took to the sky.
The sixty-four-hour journey back was just as brutal as the flight there. They slept on the vibrating cots, ate terrible airstrip food during the refueling stops, and spent hours reviewing the monumental contracts they had just signed. They had left DI as domestic billionaires. They were returning as global industrial titans.
Finally, the thick, familiar smog of the Republic of DI appeared on the horizon.
The heavy plane's wheels screeched against the concrete of the Seistain private airstrip. It was late afternoon, and the capital city looked exactly as gritty and corrupt as they had left it.
As they descended the metal stairs onto the tarmac, the humid, polluted air of their home country hit their lungs.
"Home sweet home," Kniya smirked, tossing his travel bag over his shoulder. "I wonder if the Head Director of Commerce is enjoying his prison cell yet."
Malesh adjusted his glasses, looking at the distant skyline of the Antrious Hub. "He is irrelevant now. We have three hundred and fifty Arvonian refineries and fifty steel factories to build. The real work starts today."
The Wrath of the Vice President
The heavy brass doors of the Kavilson Steel Headquarters at the Antrious Hub swung open. Kniya walked in first, looking completely unfazed by the fact that he had been missing from the country for over two weeks. Malesh followed closely behind, holding a leather briefcase filled with the greatest industrial contracts ever signed in the history of the Republic.
They walked past rows of terrified accountants and clerks, straight toward the Vice President's office.
Filoska Vinten was standing behind her desk, aggressively stamping a stack of logistics manifests. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, and a dozen cold cups of black coffee were scattered across her mahogany desk.
"We're back," Kniya announced, tossing his coat onto a leather sofa. "And we brought presents."
Filoska's head snapped up. She dropped the stamp. For a second, she just stared at them, her eye twitching slightly.
"You're back," Filoska whispered, her voice vibrating with suppressed, homicidal rage. "You disappeared for over two weeks. The stock market panicked. The legacy barons tried to file three injunctions against us. I have been fighting off federal auditors with a stick, and you walk in here and say you brought presents?!"
"Hey, calm down," Kniya raised his hands, flashing his trademark arrogant smile. "It was a highly classified, sovereign-level negotiation. We couldn't exactly telegraph you every day. But trust me, Filoska, when you read these waivers and the Arvonian treaties, you are going to kiss my boots. Kavilson Steel just quadrupled in size."
Filoska wasn't calming down. She marched around the desk, her finger pointed like a weapon. "I am the Vice President of this company, Kniya! You do not leave the continent without leaving me a contingency plan! Do you know the sheer amount of stress I have endured trying to keep your empire from collapsing while you were out playing global diplomat?"
Malesh, who had been silently observing the elevated cortisol levels in Filoska's cheeks, decided to intervene. Unfortunately, Malesh possessed the emotional intelligence of a brick.
"Your stress levels are entirely self-inflicted, Filoska," Malesh stated, adjusting his glasses in a flat, clinical monotone. "The parameters of the company were secure. However, your elevated emotional response does raise an interesting sociological question."
Filoska slowly turned her burning gaze toward Malesh. "What?"
"I was recently reviewing historical political frameworks," Malesh continued, completely oblivious to the danger he was in. "And seeing your current inability to process high-level corporate logic without resorting to screaming, I have to ask... what is your personal opinion on the matter? Do you truly believe women should have been granted voting rights? Because statistically speaking, emotional volatility like this in the voting booth seems highly inefficient."
The room went dead silent.
Kniya's jaw dropped. He slowly took a step back, realizing the catastrophic mistake his partner had just made.
Filoska didn't yell. She didn't argue. Operating on pure, unfiltered rage and adrenaline, she pivoted on her heel.
WHAM.
It was a flawless, supersonic roundhouse kick. The heel of Filoska's leather boot connected squarely with the side of Malesh's jaw. The sheer kinetic force of the impact lifted Malesh entirely off his feet. His glasses flew across the room, and he hit the polished marble floor with a sickening, heavy thud.
He didn't twitch. He was knocked out cold instantly.
Filoska slowly lowered her leg, smoothing out her skirt. She glared down at Malesh's unconscious body, then looked up at Kniya, breathing heavily. "Are there any other historical questions you two would like to ask me?"
Malesh replied in his condition, "Well you haven't replied to my question it was a very important one.. and yeah ! there is one more question do you believe that women should be considered as the part of the modern society..uhh !"
Then filoska launches another kick at Malesh and this time he definitely faints.
Kniya stared at Malesh, then back at Filoska, raising his hands in total surrender.
"Nope. Absolutely none," Kniya said quickly, walking over and grabbing Malesh by the collar of his expensive suit. "We will talk about the Arvonian steel factories later. You need some rest. I need to go drag my dead friend to my office before he bleeds on the carpet. Great kick, by the way. Very aerodynamic."
Kniya dragged the unconscious billionaire backward out of the room, leaving a highly stressed Filoska to finally process the fact that they had just conquered the Arvonian economy.