21-04-2019, 01:12 PM
So Night Follows Day Pt. 22
By T. MaskedWriter with special guest author Susan Bailey.
"Well, I saw Lon Chaney walking with The Queen.
Doing the Werewolves of London.
I saw Lon Chaney JUNIOR walking with The Queen!
Doing the Werewolves of London.
I saw a werewolf drinking a Pina Colada at Trader Vic's.
His hair was perfect."
-Warren Zevon, "Werewolves of London"
Hi, my name's Susan. I know that's what I usually say, so I've been trying to mix it up throughout things. We'd been riding to the club in the back of Helen's limo. Since we were going a longer distance than before, Mander rode up front, leaving Julie, Helen, and I alone.
"No, Werewolves is like his Walk on the Wild Side." Helen said, trying to avoid answering another question. "Like, they say if you love Walk on the Wild Side, you'll hate everything else Lou Reed has ever done; and if you love all of his other work, you hate Walk on the Wild Side. It's like that with Werewolves of London, except you can't bring yourself to hate it, because it's still Warren being Warren, dammit! His style wasn't Weird Al-level esoteric, more like They Might Be Giants: You knew he was gonna totally change the mood up on the next track, and you had an idea of what he might do, but you could never be sure. A true 'Moody Genius Artist' like yourself, Julie! That's why A Quiet Normal Life is such a brilliant album, and that was just a 'greatest hits up to 1986' one! He had another seventeen years of his career ahead of him! This is PRE Life'll Kill Ya stuff!"
As through most of the day after lunch, we'd had a full Ultimado escort, rather than the two to four that Helen usually travels with. She reasoned that one thing we know for certain about Leonard Whyte CBE; the man who'd been out to kill her for the past two months and whom she and Troy had been financially ruining throughout the day, was that he knew how to ambush a limousine.
Troy Equals had done something called "shorting Whyte's stock." Even if I didn't know he'd know how to do something with money like this for real, it had been a key plot point of the James Bond film Casino Royale, and so his obsession with 007 might have caused him to think of it anyway. At any rate, there was no way he wasn't going to explain it to me. Since he's the Math Boy, I'll give you a story problem, and those of you who care can solve it or not:
Whyte's stock is trading for $218.00 a share. Troy knows that Helen's about to do something that's going to cause Whyte's stock to take an absolute shit. (This is why Le Chiffre wanted to blow up the airplane in the movie.) Troy obtains a loan of a million shares, with a promise to return them by a certain date. He immediately turns around and sells those shares. Troy now has 218 million dollars. (There are brokers' fees throughout this process, however, let's presume that Troy knows and has everything he needs to act as his own broker, so there are no fees and the math stays clearer.)
A bunch of hackers brag about how easy it is to sabotage all communications for a day in Seattle with Whyte brand Signal Jammers. The public learns that "certain select customers" have a way around the jammers, and Whyte stores all over the world get flooded with freaked-out angry mobs who think their 911 calls can be sabotaged at any moment (They can't. Least not with these.) and demand "that rich white people only upgrade." (This is what Bond stopped Le Chiffre from doing by saving the plane, leaving Le Chiffre on the hook to pay back those shares that have now skyrocketed, forcing him into the poker game which, yes, Troy, we know it was Baccarat in Fleming's original novel.) Whyte's stock closes for the day at five dollars a share. When the stock drops to $8.88 1/8th of a share, Troy buys a million shares, turns to Whyte, and says "Here's that stock back like I promised. I don't want it anymore." How much profit has Troy made, and how completely fucked is Whyte now? Give your answer in the comments, where available. Show your work.
Troy may or may not have enough himself to do that with however many million it would take to ruin all of his companies. He does, however, have the unlimited credit of Contessa Helena de San Finzione, monarch of the Sovereign County and Nation-State of San Finzione; and CEO Emeritus of La Familia Royale de San Finzione's international business conglomerate, Società Finzione, behind him. And with all that, he could certainly raise whatever collateral a loan of the size to drive them into the ground requires.
Whatever money Whyte has saved up, it's never going to be enough to outbid Helen for Springheel. You'd think that would make him less dangerous, but like Helen told us, it just means she's given him no choice now but to come at her directly. Even before I knew Helen personally or that she could control minds, I could have told you what a fucking stupid idea that is. His "Board" and "The Shareholders" will be looking to unload their shares for pennies on the dollar now, and that's when Helen steps in and buys out the company to shut it down or start Finzione Telecom or whatever.
"Yes, Helena." Julie answered. "Everyone loves Werewolves of London, but that doesn't answer the question about the stuff you said we should see on that tape."
"I know, Mistress." Helen said, with a puff of smoke. "That would be the point of avoiding a subject. It seems that's not going to happen, though. So, yes, I tortured those pricks. Those women were not actresses, and they had far more than what I gave them coming."
She produced a balisong knife from a compartment in one of the armrests that looked to serve as Helen's junk drawer and idly flicked it open and closed before returning it. (The armrest that pulls down on the other side of her usual seat is a bit of a "Lost & Found of the Rich & Famous." It's how I ended up with Vicente Fox's silver monogrammed mustache comb. Helen gave it to me. She said the replacement she bought him two months before was gold and that he liked it better, so he's OK with me keeping it. I really try to keep my head about all this power and influence that Helen has, but I know this story because SHE CALLED HIM AND ASKED AND HE FUCKING SAID MY NAME AND THAT IT WAS COOL WITH HIM!! Then there was some private stuff with him and Helen, tell ya later. Rita's name came up.)
"How can you be sure they weren't actresses?" Julie asked.
Helen gave Julie a surprised look, like "Why would you even ask that?" Followed by an "Oh yeah, you're Julie" look. She turned to me and gave me a look that said, "Will you be ok with the answer I'm about to give?" I had a fair idea what kind of thing she was going to say and nodded. She turned back to Julie.
By T. MaskedWriter with special guest author Susan Bailey.
"Well, I saw Lon Chaney walking with The Queen.
Doing the Werewolves of London.
I saw Lon Chaney JUNIOR walking with The Queen!
Doing the Werewolves of London.
I saw a werewolf drinking a Pina Colada at Trader Vic's.
His hair was perfect."
-Warren Zevon, "Werewolves of London"
Hi, my name's Susan. I know that's what I usually say, so I've been trying to mix it up throughout things. We'd been riding to the club in the back of Helen's limo. Since we were going a longer distance than before, Mander rode up front, leaving Julie, Helen, and I alone.
"No, Werewolves is like his Walk on the Wild Side." Helen said, trying to avoid answering another question. "Like, they say if you love Walk on the Wild Side, you'll hate everything else Lou Reed has ever done; and if you love all of his other work, you hate Walk on the Wild Side. It's like that with Werewolves of London, except you can't bring yourself to hate it, because it's still Warren being Warren, dammit! His style wasn't Weird Al-level esoteric, more like They Might Be Giants: You knew he was gonna totally change the mood up on the next track, and you had an idea of what he might do, but you could never be sure. A true 'Moody Genius Artist' like yourself, Julie! That's why A Quiet Normal Life is such a brilliant album, and that was just a 'greatest hits up to 1986' one! He had another seventeen years of his career ahead of him! This is PRE Life'll Kill Ya stuff!"
As through most of the day after lunch, we'd had a full Ultimado escort, rather than the two to four that Helen usually travels with. She reasoned that one thing we know for certain about Leonard Whyte CBE; the man who'd been out to kill her for the past two months and whom she and Troy had been financially ruining throughout the day, was that he knew how to ambush a limousine.
Troy Equals had done something called "shorting Whyte's stock." Even if I didn't know he'd know how to do something with money like this for real, it had been a key plot point of the James Bond film Casino Royale, and so his obsession with 007 might have caused him to think of it anyway. At any rate, there was no way he wasn't going to explain it to me. Since he's the Math Boy, I'll give you a story problem, and those of you who care can solve it or not:
Whyte's stock is trading for $218.00 a share. Troy knows that Helen's about to do something that's going to cause Whyte's stock to take an absolute shit. (This is why Le Chiffre wanted to blow up the airplane in the movie.) Troy obtains a loan of a million shares, with a promise to return them by a certain date. He immediately turns around and sells those shares. Troy now has 218 million dollars. (There are brokers' fees throughout this process, however, let's presume that Troy knows and has everything he needs to act as his own broker, so there are no fees and the math stays clearer.)
A bunch of hackers brag about how easy it is to sabotage all communications for a day in Seattle with Whyte brand Signal Jammers. The public learns that "certain select customers" have a way around the jammers, and Whyte stores all over the world get flooded with freaked-out angry mobs who think their 911 calls can be sabotaged at any moment (They can't. Least not with these.) and demand "that rich white people only upgrade." (This is what Bond stopped Le Chiffre from doing by saving the plane, leaving Le Chiffre on the hook to pay back those shares that have now skyrocketed, forcing him into the poker game which, yes, Troy, we know it was Baccarat in Fleming's original novel.) Whyte's stock closes for the day at five dollars a share. When the stock drops to $8.88 1/8th of a share, Troy buys a million shares, turns to Whyte, and says "Here's that stock back like I promised. I don't want it anymore." How much profit has Troy made, and how completely fucked is Whyte now? Give your answer in the comments, where available. Show your work.
Troy may or may not have enough himself to do that with however many million it would take to ruin all of his companies. He does, however, have the unlimited credit of Contessa Helena de San Finzione, monarch of the Sovereign County and Nation-State of San Finzione; and CEO Emeritus of La Familia Royale de San Finzione's international business conglomerate, Società Finzione, behind him. And with all that, he could certainly raise whatever collateral a loan of the size to drive them into the ground requires.
Whatever money Whyte has saved up, it's never going to be enough to outbid Helen for Springheel. You'd think that would make him less dangerous, but like Helen told us, it just means she's given him no choice now but to come at her directly. Even before I knew Helen personally or that she could control minds, I could have told you what a fucking stupid idea that is. His "Board" and "The Shareholders" will be looking to unload their shares for pennies on the dollar now, and that's when Helen steps in and buys out the company to shut it down or start Finzione Telecom or whatever.
"Yes, Helena." Julie answered. "Everyone loves Werewolves of London, but that doesn't answer the question about the stuff you said we should see on that tape."
"I know, Mistress." Helen said, with a puff of smoke. "That would be the point of avoiding a subject. It seems that's not going to happen, though. So, yes, I tortured those pricks. Those women were not actresses, and they had far more than what I gave them coming."
She produced a balisong knife from a compartment in one of the armrests that looked to serve as Helen's junk drawer and idly flicked it open and closed before returning it. (The armrest that pulls down on the other side of her usual seat is a bit of a "Lost & Found of the Rich & Famous." It's how I ended up with Vicente Fox's silver monogrammed mustache comb. Helen gave it to me. She said the replacement she bought him two months before was gold and that he liked it better, so he's OK with me keeping it. I really try to keep my head about all this power and influence that Helen has, but I know this story because SHE CALLED HIM AND ASKED AND HE FUCKING SAID MY NAME AND THAT IT WAS COOL WITH HIM!! Then there was some private stuff with him and Helen, tell ya later. Rita's name came up.)
"How can you be sure they weren't actresses?" Julie asked.
Helen gave Julie a surprised look, like "Why would you even ask that?" Followed by an "Oh yeah, you're Julie" look. She turned to me and gave me a look that said, "Will you be ok with the answer I'm about to give?" I had a fair idea what kind of thing she was going to say and nodded. She turned back to Julie.
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