The collector's body was suspended three stories over the neo-concrete street, convulsing as Arthur Blackthorne's illusion encircled his mind in gossamer digital silk. To anyone walking by underneath the eternal neon gloaming of New Shanghai's Commercial District, it appeared to be just another suicide—just another victim of the predatory loan crisis that had drained the lower strata for decades. But Marcus Chen wasn't hanging. He wasn't even on the edge of the building.
He sat quietly safe in Arthur's office chair, his enhanced eyes rolled back inside his skull, feeling every last detail of hurtling towards his demise in exquisite, horror.
Arthur reclined against his mahogany desk, fingers together, as he observed Chen's vital signs shoot up on the holographic screen hovering in front of his head. The man's Gift—accelerated reflexes that had qualified him as one of Nexus Enterprises' top collectors—was completely worthless against Arthur's flawless deceptions. What was the use of superhuman reflexes if your brain could not tell the difference between the real world and an expertly designed nightmare?
"You sense the wind whipping by your face, don't you, Marcus?" Arthur's tone was smooth, like that of the Corporate Upper Tier, and the words were spoken with each vowel and consonant carefully articulated. "The ground expanding by the second. Your augmented nervous system activating every pain receptor in expectation of contact."
Chen's body convulsed, a strangled scream escaping his lips. Sweat beaded across his forehead as his Gift-enhanced metabolism flooded his system with adrenaline. In his mind, he was three seconds from becoming street pizza. In reality, he hadn't moved from the chair.
Arthur's own Gift had occurred during the Awakening—that strange 1800s event where metahuman powers originally appeared in about twelve percent of the world's population. In contrast to the flashy powers that overwhelmed the newsfeeds—super strength, fire manipulation, manipulating matter—Arthur's talent was quiet, psychological, and incredibly effective. He could construct illusions so real, so fully embroidered with a person's sensory input, that their own mind would complete every detail it lacked.
The ultimate tool of the trade for a man in his profession.
Chen's vital signs registered into the red zone. Arthur waved his hand and the illusion faded like morning mist. Chen gasped, his frame collapsing as his nervous system processed that he was, against all reason, still alive and still sitting in the leather chair in front of Arthur's desk.
"The Yamamoto clan," Arthur stated bluntly, summoning a holographic file out of thin air with a wave of his hand. "You've been carrying their balance for six months. The agreement very plainly says the payment was due ninety days prior."
"They. they don't have the money," Chen wheezed, still shaken by his psychosomatic near-death. "The father lost his job when Sakura Dynamics mechanized their manufacturing division. The daughter's medical expenses from the Gift-enhancement surgery broke them. They're trying, Arthur, but they can't—"
"Can't?" Arthur's black eyes locked onto Chen with hungry focus. "The elegance of our contracts, Marcus, is that 'can't' doesn't appear in the lexicon. The Yamamotos accepted indentured servitude the instant they took a loan from us. Standard Nexus Predatory Clause Seven: default on payment terms equals indentured service."
Arthur motioned, and the holographic agreement opened up in mid-air between them, with the applicable portion displayed in pulsing red text. The jurisprudence was thick, intent on confusing desperate souls who needed cash quickly and could not afford attorneys to read the fine print. It was well within the law as stated in the Corporate Sovereignty Laws of 2087, and completely calamitous to the borrowers.
"That daughter of theirs can be helpful," Arthur went on, reading through the file. "Biokinetic healing. Not for combat, but worth it to our. clandestine medical procedures. The father has mechanical ability—good for keeping weapons in order. Even the mother has some value in our hospitality department."
Chen paled. He had grown up in the Lower Tiers, where families were swallowed by corporate indenture and not heard from again. "There's got to be another way. Payment plan, extended terms—"
Arthur stood easily, his black suit pressed, reflecting the yellowish light of the city's constant artificial daylight filtering through the windows, floor-to-ceiling high. New Shanghai spread out beneath them, a vertical labyrinth of shiny corporate spires in the upper levels and run-down hab-blocks in the lower depths. Nexus Enterprises took up floors 47 through 52 of the Meridian Spire, ideally placed to gaze down on the city they helped dominate by debt and violence.
"The Kuroda and Tanaka clans are heading into the end game of their battle for territory," Arthur told him, going to the window. "Intelligence is that they'll attack each other's strongholds within a week. Both sides have been purchasing guns from our friends—assault rifles, smart ammo, military-grade explosives. The profit margins are high when you're selling to both sides of a war."
Chen scowled. "What does that have to do with—"
"All of it, Marcus." Arthur spun around to regard him, and for an instant, Chen caught sight of something darting through his vision—a burst of gunfire, screams, bodies in the street. Faded so fast he couldn't tell if he'd dreamed it. "Wars are costly. Costly wars generate desperate individuals. Desperate individuals need money. They approach us, agree to our terms without reading them carefully, and become useful assets."
The sheer savagery of it struck Chen physically. Nexus Enterprises wasn't merely making money off gang violence—they were actively creating it, then reaping the human carnage that resulted. It was the ultimate predator system, self-perpetuating and boundlessly lucrative.
"The debt of Yamamoto is 2.3 million credits, with compound interest every day," Arthur said, sinking back into his chair. "They signed the contract. They took the cash. Now they reap the reward. Unless."
Chen leaned forward, his eyes pleading. "Unless what?"
Arthur's smile was just as nice and totally appalling. "The Kuroda gang has been having issues with their weapons dealers. Someone's been hijacking their shipments, inducing delays, defects. They think Nexus is favoring the Tanakas. If someone were to give them. proof of our alleged bias, they might be willing to take more drastic action against their competition."
"You want me to give them false information about Nexus?"
"I want you to provide them with information that benefits us," Arthur corrected. "The Kurodas attack the Tanakas pre-emptively, before their weapons stockpiles are fully armed. The Tanakas strike back with all they have. Both sides take disastrous losses. Their survivors come to us for rebuilding loans." He waved, and the holographic display changed to present financial projections. "Conservatively, we're facing 200 million in new debt obligations within the month."
Chen gazed at the figures, comprehending the entire extent of Arthur's scheme. "And the Yamamotos?"
"In the midst of chaos, three individuals unable to make loan payments becomes a very trivial issue. File is lost in the mix. They remain free." Arthur's face remained impassive. "Assuming, of course, that you can provide the intel the Kurodas require to make their attack."
It was beautiful in its brutality—Chen would have to betray one crime syndicate in order to save one family, realizing that his actions would end up furthering Nexus's greater goals. Arthur had framed it as a choice, but they both knew that there was only one option Chen could ever live with.
"What kind of intelligence?" Chen asked softly.
Arthur motioned with his hand, and the office around them shimmered and transformed. Chen stood in what appeared to be a Nexus weapons depot, crates filled with assault rifles and ammunition stacked as high as the ceiling. Holographic labels hovered over each shipment, displaying destinations, numbers, delivery dates.
"This is what you will say that you have found on a normal collection visit to one of our warehouses," Arthur instructed, his voice resonating in the fake warehouse. "The Tanakas are being shipped fifty percent more weapons than the Kurodas, upgraded smart ammunition, and priority shipping. You overheard two warehouse supervisors discussing rushing up Tanaka shipments."
Chen stepped through the illusion and observed as Arthur built each nuance—the scuff marks on the concrete floor, the ambient lighting, even the scent of gun oil and ozone. It was so real that Chen's own memory would be fooled into thinking he'd actually been there.
"The elegance of this method," Arthur went on as the illusion receded back to his office, "is that you'll be speaking the truth. We are playing favorites with the Tanakas—only because we wish the Kurodas to believe we are doing so. Their early assault will be predicated on good intelligence that will lead them exactly where they do not want to go."
Chen's slow nod signified that he comprehended both his position and the trap he was entering. After he gave this information to the Kurodas, he would be an active participant in whatever happened afterward. Arthur had prepared a flawless psychological trap—the deception of volition concealing the fact of manipulation.
"I require your answer now, Marcus," Arthur instructed, glancing up at the time display hovering above his wrist. "In twenty minutes, I have a meeting with Director Vance to discuss moving into the Corporate Mid-Tier. New terrain, new possibilities."
Chen rose, standing with his shoulders squared in resignation. "I'll make the call on the Kuroda lieutenant tonight. Bring the intelligence tomorrow morning."
"Better." Arthur rose to his feet and offered his hand. When Chen took it, Arthur's illusion danced around the contact—for a moment, Chen would have sworn that he was shaking hands with a snake, its dry, cold scales against his skin. "The Yamamoto family will never be aware of what you've done for them."
When Chen was at the door, Arthur shouted out for the last time. "Oh, and Marcus? When the shooting begins, be sure you're nowhere near the Kuroda fortress. Wars are full of surprises. Even the most carefully planned ones can yield. collateral damage."
Chen hesitated, fingers on the door handle. "Suppose the Kurodas don't fall for it?"
Arthur's introspection grinned back at him from the shining face of the door. "They will. Desperate individuals always do precisely what you think they are going to do. It is the universal principle that underpins everything Nexus Enterprises has created."
The door swung shut behind Chen with a gentle hiss, and Arthur was left alone in his office high up over the sprawling metropolis. He strode back across to the window, observing the rivers of corporate drones and personal cars streaming through the aerial traffic lanes between the towers. Down in the Lower Tiers, the Yamamoto family was likely sitting down to dinner, unaware that their freedom depended upon the outcome of a gang war that hadn't yet been fought.
Arthur's reflection grinned back at him from the window, and for just a moment, it looked like someone else entirely—younger, more innocent, before the world had taught him that everything was currency and everyone had a price.
His personal communication device chimed softly. Director Vance's meeting was in fifteen minutes.
Arthur straightened his tie, dismissed the phantom image of his younger self, and prepared to discuss the next phase of Nexus Enterprises' expansion into legitimacy. After all, the real money wasn't in staying on the criminal side of the law.
It was in rewriting the law to make your crimes legal