20-04-2019, 09:54 PM
Hey, Susan here. We'd finished our shopping spree and returned to the Hotel de Società Finzione, where three bellhops were needed to bring up all our bags. Mander insisted on carrying his own tuxedo that Helen had bought for him. Apparently, these Auctions are black tie only. He also had a new Rolex to go with it.
Martin LeGrasse, Prefect of La Policia, had arrived from San Finzione to oversee the investigation. Helen informed him that she knew who was responsible and that they were being dealt with, and that the video footage had me on it, so it was Classified. She told him that since there was nothing for him to really investigate, he should enjoy a little vacation at one of the other luxury suites. He went to see if one was available, as other STRANGERS delegates were also staying at Helen's hotel. Most had checked out after the attack yesterday, so there were. He remembered me. Apparently, our first meeting was still being talked about amongst the cops.
We turned on news channels to see what the word on Helen was. It turned out there were a lot of them. The thing she did at the Whyte store had been picked up by the major networks, especially after it caused another huge drop in Whyte Telecom's stocks. A stock that had opened that morning at 218 per share closed at around five dollars a share. The other Whyte companies had followed suit, and Troy had been ready to strike at home.
"So, Troy has made..." Helen took a drag of her cigarette as she calculated. "Hundreds of millions today. A billion or more isn't beyond the realm of possibility."
"I don't ask Troy about his money." I replied, sitting on one of the couches in the suite. "So, I don't know how much he's got; but even with all of it, I don't think he has enough to take Whyte down by himself."
"Susan," Helen said, looking at me. "Julie trusts that man with all that she is. And so do I. But I trust him with even more than my body, mind, and soul," She held up the credit card she'd been using all day. "When you accept the invitation, the 'Welcome to our Club' box that they send you contains two of these. I trust Troilus Equals with my other card."
"So, if it dropped down to five a share, Troy just made..." I thought, tried to figure out the math, and how many shares he would have bought. (Troy's explained "shorting a stock" to me before. Because, you know, you can't stop him from doing that kind of thing.) "Metric fucktons of money."
"Slightly fewer fucktons than you think." Julie replied. She'd called Troy about the drone strike as soon as we'd heard. "Just for Leonard, Troy bought back at eight dollars, eighty-eight cents, and one-eighth." She grinned.
"But the house is ok, too?" Helen asked her. "You know I'll pay for any damage."
"And you know we wouldn't let you. Troy says there's drone bits on the roof. He was going to try to pressure-hose them off when it stops raining. And that actually sounds kind of like a fun thing to do, like that carnival game where you shoot the squirt gun into the clown's mouth to pop the balloon. So I told him to wait for me; but once it's dry, if you want to send an Ultimado on a dangerous covert mission up a ladder to get the ones we can't hose off, that should take care of it."
Helen nodded.
"Hopefully, it happens before I leave." Helen replied. "Because you're right, that does sound like a blast."
"Well," I said. "A blast IS how it happened." I pretended to snuggle an invisible poodle. "Yes, it will, Precious, it will get da hose."
They got a laugh at that. We turned back to the news, which had apparently chosen "Con-Hel" for Helen's annoying media nickname. Footage showed Con-Hel giving the press their makeovers, that "plucking the olive out of her tits" video was replayed for what must have been the tenth time that I'd seen, and I'd only been checking the news every now and then, when we could get a signal while shopping. Then her triumphant march across the mall, a sea of irate former Whyte Telecom customers following her to Consumer Salvation. La Contessa buying out the Apple Store and sitting at a table, handing out iPhones and iPads to the crowd, autographing the boxes, letting people's first pic on their new phones be a selfie with her, and generally being delighted to meet everyone.
Con-Hel walking up to two parents with a cute little girl and giving the girl a dolly, then over to the toy store where she told the kids "Star Wars aisle; you pick, I'm buying! Two figures, and one vehicle or accessory or one figure and a lightsaber each." Her turning to the camera with a smile and telling it "I'll bend on that limit a little." Then turning back to the kids, walking over to the peg of Stormtroopers, and clearing it out before moving to the battle droids.
"Hey, I just thought of something here. No point getting a Han if you don't have a Boba Fett for him to fight. So, tell ya what: I'm going to buy all the bad guys myself, and everyone gets one, so you don't have to waste one of your picks on one of them. I'll put them in a garbage bag and we'll draw them at random. So, you might get a Stormtrooper, you might get Darth Maul, but FREE VILLAINS TODAY!!"
The kids cheered. The press cheered. I was starting to feel nauseous at seeing it all again through a camera lens, and reached for the remote. Helen grinned at that.
Martin LeGrasse, Prefect of La Policia, had arrived from San Finzione to oversee the investigation. Helen informed him that she knew who was responsible and that they were being dealt with, and that the video footage had me on it, so it was Classified. She told him that since there was nothing for him to really investigate, he should enjoy a little vacation at one of the other luxury suites. He went to see if one was available, as other STRANGERS delegates were also staying at Helen's hotel. Most had checked out after the attack yesterday, so there were. He remembered me. Apparently, our first meeting was still being talked about amongst the cops.
We turned on news channels to see what the word on Helen was. It turned out there were a lot of them. The thing she did at the Whyte store had been picked up by the major networks, especially after it caused another huge drop in Whyte Telecom's stocks. A stock that had opened that morning at 218 per share closed at around five dollars a share. The other Whyte companies had followed suit, and Troy had been ready to strike at home.
"So, Troy has made..." Helen took a drag of her cigarette as she calculated. "Hundreds of millions today. A billion or more isn't beyond the realm of possibility."
"I don't ask Troy about his money." I replied, sitting on one of the couches in the suite. "So, I don't know how much he's got; but even with all of it, I don't think he has enough to take Whyte down by himself."
"Susan," Helen said, looking at me. "Julie trusts that man with all that she is. And so do I. But I trust him with even more than my body, mind, and soul," She held up the credit card she'd been using all day. "When you accept the invitation, the 'Welcome to our Club' box that they send you contains two of these. I trust Troilus Equals with my other card."
"So, if it dropped down to five a share, Troy just made..." I thought, tried to figure out the math, and how many shares he would have bought. (Troy's explained "shorting a stock" to me before. Because, you know, you can't stop him from doing that kind of thing.) "Metric fucktons of money."
"Slightly fewer fucktons than you think." Julie replied. She'd called Troy about the drone strike as soon as we'd heard. "Just for Leonard, Troy bought back at eight dollars, eighty-eight cents, and one-eighth." She grinned.
"But the house is ok, too?" Helen asked her. "You know I'll pay for any damage."
"And you know we wouldn't let you. Troy says there's drone bits on the roof. He was going to try to pressure-hose them off when it stops raining. And that actually sounds kind of like a fun thing to do, like that carnival game where you shoot the squirt gun into the clown's mouth to pop the balloon. So I told him to wait for me; but once it's dry, if you want to send an Ultimado on a dangerous covert mission up a ladder to get the ones we can't hose off, that should take care of it."
Helen nodded.
"Hopefully, it happens before I leave." Helen replied. "Because you're right, that does sound like a blast."
"Well," I said. "A blast IS how it happened." I pretended to snuggle an invisible poodle. "Yes, it will, Precious, it will get da hose."
They got a laugh at that. We turned back to the news, which had apparently chosen "Con-Hel" for Helen's annoying media nickname. Footage showed Con-Hel giving the press their makeovers, that "plucking the olive out of her tits" video was replayed for what must have been the tenth time that I'd seen, and I'd only been checking the news every now and then, when we could get a signal while shopping. Then her triumphant march across the mall, a sea of irate former Whyte Telecom customers following her to Consumer Salvation. La Contessa buying out the Apple Store and sitting at a table, handing out iPhones and iPads to the crowd, autographing the boxes, letting people's first pic on their new phones be a selfie with her, and generally being delighted to meet everyone.
Con-Hel walking up to two parents with a cute little girl and giving the girl a dolly, then over to the toy store where she told the kids "Star Wars aisle; you pick, I'm buying! Two figures, and one vehicle or accessory or one figure and a lightsaber each." Her turning to the camera with a smile and telling it "I'll bend on that limit a little." Then turning back to the kids, walking over to the peg of Stormtroopers, and clearing it out before moving to the battle droids.
"Hey, I just thought of something here. No point getting a Han if you don't have a Boba Fett for him to fight. So, tell ya what: I'm going to buy all the bad guys myself, and everyone gets one, so you don't have to waste one of your picks on one of them. I'll put them in a garbage bag and we'll draw them at random. So, you might get a Stormtrooper, you might get Darth Maul, but FREE VILLAINS TODAY!!"
The kids cheered. The press cheered. I was starting to feel nauseous at seeing it all again through a camera lens, and reached for the remote. Helen grinned at that.
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