The Crossroads - The Next DayMeetings with Local Clients
Marco Antonio Durán had learned something important about business in recent weeks: local customers were the bread and butter of the business. Multiversal customers were exciting, apocalyptic, and occasionally gave him ulcers, but the local customers paid the bills.
And at this moment, with 205,000 MC of debt, he desperately needed to pay bills.
"TARS, a reminder of my current financial situation."
[Let me summarize your brilliant financial management: You earned 70,000 MC. Then you went into debt for 275,000 MC buying sleep devices for five versions of the same person. Net balance: -205,000 MC. Want me to continue?]
"Your sarcasm is not constructive."
[My sarcasm is entirely constructive. It reminds you that you have a habit of prioritizing customer well-being over financial solvency.]
"And is that bad?"
[It's admirable. It's also a fast track to bankruptcy. You need to EARN money, not just spend it on noble causes.]
"That's why I have three meetings today. Who's first?"
[Lindir. Elrond's assistant. Seeks improved elven armor for border patrols.]
The door opened and Lindir entered, tall and elegant like all elves, but with an expression of professional concern.
"Marco, thank you for having me."
"There's always time for clients. What do you need?"
"Armor. Specifically, armor that can withstand warg claws and orc arrows better than our standard mithril. Patrols are facing more frequent attacks since Sauron stepped up his activities."
Marco activated his interface.
"How many units?"
"Twenty complete sets. For our elite explorers."
[Advanced Combat Armor - Military Grade. Origin: Halo Universe (adapted MJOLNIR). Cost per unit: 25,000 MC. Total: 500,000 MC. With your owner discount: 100,000 MC.]
"Damn," Marco muttered. "Even with a discount, I can't afford inventory."
[So don't buy it all at once. Take a deposit. 50% now, delivery in stages.]
"Lindir, I can get you that armor. Better than mithril, lighter, with self-healing properties. But it's expensive. 25,000 elven gold per set."
Lindir whistled softly.
"That's... significant. But if it really is superior to mithril..." he considered, "...Elrond authorized up to 600,000 gold for equipment this quarter. I can justify it."
"So here's my proposal: You pay me $250,000 now as an advance. I'll deliver ten sets immediately. The other ten in two weeks. You pay the remaining $250,000 upon receiving the second half."
"What if the first half is defective?"
Marco activated his Hatsu. The golden coins appeared.
"Binding contract. If there are any defects, free replacement or full refund. No questions asked."
Lindir studied the coins with interest.
"Your contract magic is useful. It eliminates the need for trust."
"Replace trust with certainty. It's better for business."
"Agreed."
They shook hands. The coins were divided.
[SALE CONFIRMED: 500,000 elven gold (~2,000,000 MC worth)][Your commission: 1,000,000 MC][But inventory cost: 100,000 MC immediately][Advance received: 250,000 elven gold (~1,000,000 MC )][Net balance after costs: +900,000 MC]
[DEBT PAID! Positive balance: 695,000 MC]
Marco felt a massive weight lift from his shoulders.
"TARS, are we solvent?"
[Yes. And with a healthy profit. Congratulations, you almost ruined everything by being too generous, but this sale saved you.]
"Thank you for your trust."
[You're welcome. Now fulfill the first half of the order before Lindir changes his mind.]
Marco processed the order. Ten sets of armor materialized in the storage area—elegant, technologically advanced, but with an aesthetic that elves would appreciate.
Lindir examined them with an expert eye.
"Extraordinary. The material is unknown but clearly superior. And the integrated magic seals..." he touched runes that TARS had automatically added to make the tech look like elven magic, "...are masterful work."
"So, satisfied?"
"Absolutely. This will significantly improve patrol effectiveness." Lindir gave a formal elven bow. "Thank you, Marco. Rivendell is in your debt."
After Lindir left with the armor, Marco collapsed into his chair in relief.
"Okay. One down. Who's next?"
[Gimli, son of Glóin. The skeptical dwarf you convinced with the Battle Hammer.]
"Did he return with gold?"
[He returned with a MASSIVE purchase order from Erebor.]
The door opened and Gimli walked in, his beard elaborately braided and a huge smile on his face.
"Mark, merchant of wonders! I bring good news!"
"I love good news."
"My father, Glóin, was impressed with my report. VERY impressed. So much so that he consulted with King Thrór." Gimli placed the parchment scroll on the desk. "This is an official purchase order from Erebor. Kingdom Under the Mountain."
Marco unrolled the parchment. His eyes widened.
It was a list of equipment:
50 Battle Hammers (like the one he showed)100 Combat Axes (higher grade)200 Sets of Heavy Armor500 Units of Adamantium Metal (raw material)50 Advanced Blacksmithing Kits
[Total value: Approximately 15,000,000 MC][Your potential commission: 7,500,000 MC]
Marco choked on his own saliva.
"This is... this is..."
"Fortune," Gimli finished with satisfaction. "The entire dwarf kingdom equipping itself with your wonders. Of course, there are conditions."
"Of course there are."
"First: Payment will be staggered over six months. We can't pay it all at once."
"Reasonable."
"Second: Volume discount. 20%."
"I can do 15%."
"17.5%."
"Deal."
"Third: Exclusivity. During the contract period, you may not sell to other dwarven kingdoms without our permission."
Marco hesitated. Exclusivity was a double-edged sword.
"What about emergencies? What if another dwarf kingdom is attacked and desperately needs weapons?"
Gimli considered.
"Exception for emergency defense. But normal commercial sales—exclusive to Erebor."
"For six months."
"For one year."
"Nine months."
"Ten months and we have a deal."
"Deal."
They shook hands. Marco activated his Hatsu to formalize it.
[MASS CONTRACT ESTABLISHED][Total value: ~ 13,000,000 MC (after discount)][Your commission: ~ 6,500,000 MC (staggered delivery)][First advance payment: 2,000,000 MC ]
[Current balance: 2,695,000 MC]
Marco had to sit down. He had gone from -205,000 MC to almost three million in two meetings.
"Gimli, this is... thank you. Seriously."
"Don't thank me. This is business. Good business for both of us." Gimli smiled. "Although, between us, I'm excited. The dwarves of Erebor with adamantium... we'll be unstoppable."
"Just use it wisely."
"Of course. Dwarves don't start wars. We only finish them." He winked. "Violently."
After Three More Meetings
By the time Marco finished for the day, he had assured us:
Rivendell Armor Contract: +900,000 MCMassive contract with Erebor: +2,000,000 MC (advance)Sale of magic tools to human merchant: +150,000 MCOrder of medicinal potions from Lothlórien (via messenger): +300,000 MC
Total balance: 4,045,000 MC
Marco stared at the number on his screen in disbelief.
"TARS... am I rich?"
[By Middle-earth standards, extremely. By multiversal standards, comfortably accommodated.]
"Can I pay for the sleep devices and still have a reservation?"
[Yes. You pay 275,000 MC. You have 3,770,000 MC left.]
"And will future deliveries of Erebor add...?"
[Approximately 4,500,000 more MC over the next few months. Projected total: ~ 8,000,000 MC.]
Marco leaned back in his chair, mind working.
"Then I can invest in infrastructure. Improve La Encrucijada. Maybe hire an assistant."
[Or you could save for emergencies. Because statistically, you'll have a costly emergency in the next three months.]
"Always so optimistic."
[Realistic. Your track record includes: selling out to Sauron, fragmenting Phoenix Force, and going into debt buying sleep therapy for five people. You're a financial disaster waiting to happen.]
"But a SOLVENT financial disaster now."
[For now.]
The door opened without knocking.
Legion entered, but there was something different about him. His eyes—which usually alternated between five different colors—shone with a unified light. Blue, but with hints of the other four.
"Marco, something happened."
"That?"
"My personalities... are in sync. Completely. For the first time in years, they're not fighting. They're... harmonizing."
"That's incredible. What changed?"
"The Jeans. Watching them function as a system showed me how. I don't need to eliminate personalities. I need to CONDUCT them. Like an orchestra." Legion smiled—and it was a smile that combined Jemail's cunning, Zachary's strength, Jack's intensity, Ian's warmth, and James's poise. "I think I'm ready."
"So that?"
"To search for my other fragments. The remaining 36 are scattered throughout the multiverse."
Marco felt excitement and concern.
"That's... ambitious."
"It is. But with your help, with the progress I've made here, I believe I can do it." Legion leaned forward. "And here's my proposal: I hire you as my agent/guide. You help me locate and reunite fragments. In return, I give you 20% of my future services for two decades instead of one."
[Marco, this is a HUGE opportunity. A fully reunited Legion would be one of the most powerful beings in the Marvel Universe. Having 20% of their services for twenty years is worth... easily 50,000,000+ Marvel .]
"How long would it take?"
"Two years. Maybe three. Some fragments are in easily accessible dimensions. Others... not so much."
"And the risks?"
"Significant. Some fragments won't want to reunite. Some have developed their own identities. There will be conflict. Possibly fighting." Legion looked at him seriously. "That's why I need a partner I trust. Someone who will keep me honest. Who will prevent problematic fragments from corrupting me."
Marco considered it. Two years was a long commitment. But the payment...
"Can I think about it?"
"Of course. It's not a decision to be taken lightly."
After Legion left, Marco stared at his financial balance.
4 million loans. Futures contracts worth millions more. And now a proposal that could eventually be worth 50 million.
"TARS, do you remember a month ago when I was dead?"
[Vividly.]
"And do you remember two weeks ago when I was 940,000 MC in debt?"
[Painfully.]
"How the hell did I get here?"
[A combination of extreme luck, questionable decisions, and an uncanny ability to turn apocalyptic situations into business opportunities.]
"That's a terrible description of a business model."
[And yet, it works.]
Marco was about to answer when he felt something.
Your sense of danger is activating. Not immediate, but present.
"TARS?"
[I feel it too. Something is... changing. In the air. In reality itself.]
The door to La Encrucijada opened.
But nobody went in.
Instead, a voice echoed from the doorway. A voice that made every hair on Marco's body stand on end.
" Multiversal merchant. I've heard interesting stories about you. "
The voice was female but contained POWER that made even Phoenix Force seem small in comparison.
" They say you sell the impossible. That you deal with gods and demons alike. That you changed the fate of the Dark Lord himself. "
A figure slowly materialized in the doorway. A woman. Tall. Dark skin. Eyes that held countless stars. Dressed in clothes that seemed to be made of night itself.
" I am Death. And I have a proposition you cannot refuse. "
Marco remained completely still.
Death.
Cosmic abstract literal.
Personification of the end of all life.
"Shit," was all he managed to say.
Death smiled. It wasn't a cruel smile. It was almost... friendly.
" Oh, don't worry. I'm not here to take your soul. I'm here to hire your services. "
"Hire?"
" I have a problem. Someone is interfering with the natural cycle of life and death across multiple universes. Unauthorized resurrections. Immortals who should have died eons ago. And I need... a mediator. Someone who can negotiate with these immortals. Convince them that their time is up. "
He approached the desk.
" I'll pay generously. And in return, I only need you to do what you do best: sell the impossible. In this case, sell the idea that dying isn't the end. It's a transition. "
Marco looked at Death. Then at his balance. Then back at Death.
"How much would you pay exactly?"
" 20,000,000 Multiversal Credits. Plus permanent favor from Death herself. "
[MARCO. THIS IS IT. THIS IS BIGGER THAN ANYTHING YOU'VE EVER DONE. DEATH. LITERAL DEATH.]
"I know, TARS."
" So? " Death asked. " Do you accept? "
Marco Antonio Durán, who had died watching football just a month and a half ago, who had negotiated with Sauron, fragmented Fuerza Fénix, and repeatedly survived the impossible...
He took a deep breath.
"I need specific details first. Who are these immortals? How dangerous are they? And what exactly would 'convincing' them entail?"
Death smiled more broadly.
" I knew you were smart. Very well. Let's sit down and discuss the terms. "
And while Death—LITERAL DEATH—sat across from him to negotiate a contract...
Marco couldn't help but think:
My life is officially weirder than anything I could have ever imagined.
And apparently, that includes working for Death as a mortality trader.
Is this a career advancement or an existential crisis?
Probably both.
[END OF CHAPTER 21]