As May rolled around, the Texas heat really started to crank up.
Even though the next-gen hardware drops released this year had been on the market for over a month, consumer demand remained completely explosive. In April alone, global sales of their new Intelligent Voice Assistant across both domestic and overseas channels—spanning every e-commerce platform and physical experience store—had cleared a staggering eight million units.
That was an absolutely terrifying volume. Granted, the metric wasn't perfectly clean since it wrapped in a massive backlog of pre-orders, but it was still a blinding milestone.
The tech press went into an absolute frenzy trying to cover the data, inevitably pushing Militech straight back to the top of the viral trending algorithms once again.
It actually reached the point where some cynical corners of the internet started getting visibly annoyed, complaining that nowadays, if Militech so much as breathed, the media would call it a historic breakthrough.
Yet despite the sheer weight of the logistics required to ship that many units, the entire pipeline ran like clockwork thanks to the absolute mountain of early prep work they'd knocked out. This finally allowed the executive suite, who had been grinding seventy-hour weeks straight through since New Year's, a desperate window to catch their breath.
Waking up to see a flawless, sun-drenched forecast, Nick decided he wasn't going anywhere near the corporate office. He fired off a quick Slack message to Calloway letting her know he was taking a personal day.
Not only was he playing hooky, but he also dialed up Tyler, Zack, and Terry to drag them out of the office with him.
"What's the play, man? Blowing up our phones this early in the morning—did some server rack go down or something?" Tyler asked, stepping down from his Mercedes GLE wearing casual summer threads and a pair of designer sunglasses.
Zack and Terry pulled up right behind him and cut their engines. Compared to Tyler's flashy, high-roller aesthetic, these two looked way more laid-back.
Terry was rocking his signature red flannel shirt—the undisputed, stereotypical uniform of a hardcore software engineer. Zack wasn't much better, sporting a pair of beat-up jeans under a grey casual blazer, a fashion choice that made Nick's teeth ache just looking at it.
"The weather is too perfect to sit under fluorescent lights, so I figured I'd drag you guys out to actually touch some grass. Well? You down?" Nick said with a grin.
Since he was the one orchestrating the escape, his outfit was purely built for comfort: khaki cargo shorts, a pair of desert-grey hiking boots, a black graphic tee, and a lightweight, bright yellow sun-protection windbreaker thrown over it.
"Pretty sure this is unauthorized absenteeism, boss. I'm docking your pay," Zack teased, a smirk breaking across his face.
Nick waved a hand, totally unamused. "Cut the crap. Are we doing this or not? If you're gonna complain, I'm hitting the road without you."
"Oh, we're doing it. Who said we weren't down? We've been working ourselves to the bone for months; we're allowed a single cheat day," Tyler quickly chimed in, flashing a massive grin.
Terry checked his watch, smiling. "Alright boss, what's the actual itinerary?"
"We're going fishing."
"It's barely May, what the hell are we even trying to catch?" Tyler grumbled, though a massive smile betrayed his fake annoyance. For their core group, the actual coordinates didn't matter; what mattered was that the entire executive team was offline simultaneously for a rare get-together.
"Is it just the guys?" Zack asked, scanning the driveway.
Nick shook his head, his smile widening. "Nope. Vivian's coming out, and she's bringing a couple of her friends. Ryan and the security detail are tag-teaming the logistics to help us set up, too."
"Wait, Vivian's friends? Are we talking guys or hot chicks?" Tyler's eyes instantly locked in, his radar pinging.
"Girls, obviously. And let me make one thing clear: keep your composure when they roll up. Do not stand there staring like a bunch of starved frat boys. You guys are C-suite executives and shareholders in a multi-million-dollar enterprise now; try to project a little bit of confidence and poise," Nick teased the three of them.
Tyler got hyped instantly, while Zack and Terry also broke into wide grins, immediately diving into standard corporate gossip.
"How many are we talking? What's the vibe?"
"How should I know? I haven't met them yet either," Nick shot back, gesturing toward the driveway exit. "Get in your trucks. We need to go hit a pro shop first."
"Buy what? Let's just head straight to the water," Tyler said, looking wildly impatient.
Nick rolled his eyes crossly. "If we don't buy fishing rods, Tyler, what are you gonna do—catch the bass with your mouth?"
Amid the relentless banter, the squad piled into their SUVs and tracked the GPS coordinates to a highly rated outdoor and bait-and-tackle shop on the edge of town.
Since they were all complete amateurs who didn't know a spinning reel from a baitcaster, they just gave the shop owner a blank check and let him curate a turnkey starter setup for them. As for the technical specs or brand names, they couldn't care less—partly because they truly didn't understand the gear, and partly because while they called it a fishing trip, the real value was the recreation, not the fish.
Along with the tackle, they went on a massive shopping spree for outdoor gear: folding camp chairs, portable tables, a heavy-duty charcoal grill, patio parasols, pop-up tents, and a mountain of coolers.
Because the haul was massive, even with three mid-size SUVs in the convoy, they completely ran out of cargo space. They had to wait around in the parking lot until Vivian finally pulled up in her built-out Jeep Wrangler to absorb the overflow.
Two girls climbed out of the Jeep with Vivian. One was her absolute best friend, Alice—a twenty-five-year-old who carried herself with an incredibly confident, mature energy. She had a striking figure and was the kind of high-maintenance beauty who clearly knew exactly how to style herself to command a room.
The other was a close friend from college named Maria . She was a year younger than Vivian, wore minimalist glasses, and leaned a whole lot more introverted.
"Viv, so this is that tech-mogul boyfriend of yours. I gotta admit, I didn't see it coming, but your taste in men is incredibly sharp." After teasing Vivian—whose face immediately flushed a light shade of crimson—Alice stepped forward and generously extended her hand toward him. "Hey Nick. I've been hearing your name on repeat for months, but I had no clue you were Viv's guy. I'm Alice, her literal partner-in-crime."
"Good to meet you," Nick nodded smoothly, before pivoting back to the group to keep the timeline moving. "Alright squad, let's hit the supermarket down the block to stock up on steaks, burgers, and charcoal. Let's move fast; the sun's gonna start cooking us the second it clears the tree line."
With Vivian's crew integrated, they shuffled the seating arrangements. Even though Vivian's Wrangler looked incredibly rugged and cool, the highway ride quality was notoriously stiff. Since Vivian wanted to ride shotgun with Nick, they handed her keys over to Ryan, Wallace, and Brent from the security team to handle the heavy lifting.
Nick drove his own SUV with Vivian controlling the aux cord in the passenger seat, while Maria and a quiet Terry occupied the leather seats in the back.
Tyler's truck absorbed the more extroverted Alice and Zack. This layout was entirely engineered to force the core team to network and get to know the new faces. Although Alice dropped a subtle hint of hesitation about Nick placing her in the "loud guy's" truck, they had just met, so she kept her complaints to a minimum.
Despite Nick throwing out constant reminders to watch the clock, the second the girls crossed the threshold of the grocery store, they completely lost their minds, treating the supermarket like an absolute playground and launching into a massive shopping spree.
Staring down a shopping cart literally overflowing with premium snacks, seltzers, and junk food, Nick was completely speechless. When they hit the checkout lane, he systematically vetoed more than half the cart, keeping only the actual essentials. That executive decision earned him some incredibly resentful death stares from the girls—including Lyu Fei, who usually maintained a completely ice-cold, stoic professional demeanor.
After packing the coolers and wedging the grocery bags into the remaining cargo gaps, the convoy finally hit the asphalt. The three trucks formed a tight line and cruised toward their coordinates.
For this run, Nick had picked out a scenic lakeside spot tucked into the eastern suburbs. Because several small tributary streams converged in this basin, it had carved out a massive network of interconnected lakes, creating a gorgeous, sprawling wetland reserve.
These specific banks had evolved into an incredibly popular weekend sanctuary for local angling enthusiasts. Every Saturday and Sunday, waves of people would drive out here to escape the corporate grind and unwind.
Granted, environmental conservation laws had drastically tightened over the last few fiscal quarters, and a massive chunk of the waterfront had been designated as a protected wildlife sanctuary where casting a line was strictly illegal. However, there were still plenty of open-access zones outside the boundary lines that carried zero fishing restrictions.
Besides, their primary mission today was just to hang out, drink cold beer, and grill food by the water; whether a single bass actually bit their hooks didn't matter at all.