NOVPUBFor the first time in a very long time, the Moon Enterprises Headquarters in Calivernia finally had its king on the throne.
That morning, the skyline of Los Alverez was drenched in a copper dawn, the morning sun slicing through the still air like a scalpel.
At the top most floor of Moon Enterprises' obsidian tower, Archibald Mooney stood behind his pristine desk, gazing down at the city like a sovereign over his kingdom.
In his mind, this was a generic pose done by almost every powerful business man, but looking down at the disaster the business world of Los Alverez had fallen into filled him with anger, and yet, a sense of purpose.
Behind him was his office.
It was an austere room — no vanity, no clutter. A single Montblanc pen lay neatly beside a leather-bound ledger on the matte-black desk.
He had a computer, letting out a soft hum as it displayed financial data in fluid streams of blue and gold. There were no portraits on the walls, he didn't even hang the numerous awards he had won.
All there was was a single framed inscription:
"Control is the true currency."
It was a truth that he lived by, knowing that those who were wealthy were still controlled by their wealth, and only those who recognized that and strived for true power would ever wield actual control.
Archibald narrowed his eyes at the view, his office loud with silence. This silence remained sacred until a knock disturbed it.
"Enter," Archibald said without turning.
The door slid open and in stepped Lily Smithers, one of a dozen executive assistants under the Moon establishment.
Lily walked in with an aura of youth, efficiency, and invisibility in the way Archibald demanded — wearing a fitted navy blouse tucked into gray slacks, her blonde hair knotted back.
She approached with a stack of thin files in hand.
"The regulatory team will be arriving in fifteen minutes, sir. Settlement documentation is finalized. All NDAs have been reviewed and appended."
He didn't look at her. "The Los Alverez Tribune?"
"They've agreed to embargo the liquidity figures until noon."
"And the client list?"
"Prioritized. Ventura Shipping, Bryson Medical, Hightower Group. Their CEOs are are on their way."
He gave a single nod. "Thank you. Go ahead and send in Legal."
Lily turned around and left the office, while Archibald watched coldly.
Some minutes later, three members of the state's financial regulation board stood across from Archibald now, stiff in their expensive but poorly tailored suits. They glanced nervously between each other, the city's sprawling chaos reflected in the window behind him.
Archibald sat at the head of the black-marble conference table, his hands folded, gaze unmoving.
"Moon Enterprises," he began, "accepts complete financial responsibility for the mismanagement and liquidation of MWMO. Every client will be repaid. Dollar for dollar."
He motioned on his secretary who slid three identical contracts across the table, as if summoned by ghosts.
"No caveats. No escape clauses. Just resolution."
The lead regulator, a hard-jawed woman named Braxley, stared at him with suspicion. "You're being… unusually compliant, Mr. Mooney."
He didn't blink. "I fully accept the effects of my subsidiary. This is math."
He clicked a key on his laptop and turned it to face the regulators. A cascade of numbers shimmered to life on the screen. "A $4.7 billion injection. Immediate liquidity to the affected entities. It will be audited quarterly, which means no deferments."
Her pen hovered above the paper. "And Ryan Anders?"
"I have no knowledge of his location. If you do find him, I fine with everything. In fact, I employ you punish him to the fullest. Prosecute him. Hang him. Send his ashes to his lawyers. He doesn't matter."
That got silence.
"Sign the contracts," Archibald said coolly. "And by midday, the market will remember how stability feels."
All regulators looked at each other. "It's good to have you back, Mr. Archibald."
They signed.
After the regulators left, Archibald began the most important part of this situation: helping affected companies regain their strength.
In the war room, he entered without announcement. His division heads were already seated, but got on their feet the moment he stepped in, before quickly taking their seats again.
Eduard Voss, Head of Acquisitions, leaned forward, blinking twice like he had difficulty reading. "We're seeing clients hesitate to recommit. Should we apply leverage?"
"Freeze all talent exits," Archibald ordered, moving to the head of the table. "Triple severance packages for any employee who stays. If they leave— sue them. I've given you all claws. They're there for you to use them."
The orders came like gunfire. Archibald, as strict as they came, knew how important it was to reduce as much fire as possible from hitting him and his subsidiaries.
At the same time, settlements were also a priority. 𝚗ovp𝚞b.𝚌om
"Mira," he said to the CFO, "prepare debt offsets. Ventura Shipping owes Moon Shipping $800 million. We'll forgive it, but only if they surrender 62% equity."
Mira blinked. "That'll be viewed as opportunism."
"That's completely ridiculous. Everything is opportunism. What this is is survival. Optics are your department. I expect headlines like: 'Mooney's Redemption.' 'Titan of Industry Protects What's Left.' MWMO failed, but I need you to make failure look like mercy."
"Yes, sir."
"Begin re-acquisition negotiations. If they resist... remind them who underwrites their futures."
The first company to approach for re-acquisition was Ventura Finance.
The CEO arrived early. Gregorio Danz, Ventura's top man. He looked like a CEO from another era — sweating, red-faced, with a tie that had been loosened three times already.
But with Archibald's strategy, he was about to sweat even more.
"This is a corporate takeover," he said, staring at the equity agreement before him.
Archibald sat with the patience of a butcher. "No, this is what you must agree to if you want your company to survive. If you don't sign, I call in your loans at sunset. You'll be bankrupt before the market closes."
Danz swallowed. "You're bleeding us."
"Incorrect, Mr. Danz," Archibald replied, "Ryan Anders did that. I'm the transfusion."
The man signed, hands shaking.
The second meeting was less smooth.
Eleanor Bryson, founder of Bryson Medical, strode in with steel in her step and fire in her voice.
"Your equity is a leash," she said coldly. "I won't hand you my life's work."
Archibald lifted one hand, conjuring her debt structure in a glowing web of red.
"You're $1.2 billion under. Three quarters overdue. If you don't sign, you won't just lose your company. You'll probably be swallowed by Morrison's or Holloway Medicals. You'll lose your patents. Let's not forget your daughter's college fund, and the tiny legacy you've managed to build."
Archibald was brutal. "Let us be start here, Mrs. Bryson."
Eleanor's hand trembled. But she signed.
After many other companies, the last one for the day was unavailable, the chair was empty.
Archibald frowned. "Surprising."
Lily stepped in, whispering near his shoulder. "Hightower Group's chairman turned his jet around. He's no longer on his way here."
Archibald's eyes narrowed. "That's ludacris. He needs Moon Wealth to survive. Get him on call."
His secretary approached with a phone.
Kaito Sagomoto was surprisingly the one who answered.
"Mr. Mooney," he said in calm English. "What a rare occasion."
Archibald's jaw set. "Sagomoto. Long time no see. Where is Hightower?"
Sagomoto smiled. "He's with us now. A merger has taken place."
"A merger? Don't be ridiculous, they don't have the capital."
"Indeed they don't, but my client does. Tell me, Archibald. Have you ever heard of STEELE INVESTMENTS?"
Archibald stood still.
Kaito smiled. "You have, haven't you? I'm sure you're away that the CEO is the same man who took down two of your accomplices; Gareth Smithers and Ryan Anders."
No response from Archibald.
"Don't worry about Hightower. Like many other of MWMO's startup portfolios, they'll be fine under Steele Investments. And oh... Mr. Steele himself sends his regards."
The line died.
Silence. Archibald stayed still, eyes still on the empty chair. Then, his lips parted sharply.
"And there's the third strike, curious Mr. Steele. Now... you have my attention."
