Chapter Nine: The First Transaction
Quinn Parker sat in his dimly lit office, eyes scanning the screen as Ara, the advanced AI, rapidly processed new potential clients for their underground arms operation. It had been weeks since Quinn had ventured into this new line of business, and now he was ready to make his first big sale. He leaned back in his chair, contemplating the future. His hands tapped the edge of his desk impatiently as the dim glow of the screen lit his face.
"Ara, anything yet?"
The AI's voice hummed to life, smooth and efficient. "We've had a few potential buyers inquire, but nothing substantial until this morning. Ross Garcia from Tijuana, Mexico, leader of a major drug cartel, placed an order for 100 automatic rifles and 100,000 rounds of ammunition. Total cost: two million dollars."
Quinn's eyebrows raised slightly. He'd heard of Ross Garcia—who hadn't? The man was notorious not only for his ruthlessness but for his sheer efficiency in running one of the most dangerous cartels in Mexico. A substantial client for the arms trade.
"Interesting," Quinn muttered. "How should we proceed?"
Ara's voice remained calm, unflinching. "Garcia expects discretion and reliability. This will be your first major transaction, so ensuring his trust is paramount."
A small smirk curled Quinn's lips. "Trust," he scoffed. "That's a concept men like Garcia pretend to understand, but in reality, all they care about is power. Still, we need him for now."
Quinn tapped his fingers against the keyboard, pulling up the encrypted messaging platform on the dark web. He had his reservations about dealing with cartel leaders, but if anyone knew the value of superior weapons, it was men like Ross. The challenge was getting the man to trust him—an unknown supplier who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere with cutting-edge arms.
"Let's initiate contact," Quinn ordered.
Within moments, a message was sent to Ross Garcia through a secure channel, offering a 10 percent discount on his first transaction—a calculated move. Quinn knew that Ross was in a vulnerable position after his previous arms supplier had been killed. This was an opportunity to leverage.
Minutes passed before a reply came. A simple, "Why the discount?"
Quinn chuckled to himself. "He's suspicious. As expected."
He typed back. "Consider it a gesture of goodwill. First transaction only."
There was a pause on the other end, and Quinn could almost picture Ross frowning at the message. The man was probably sitting in his heavily guarded estate, surrounded by armed men, always on edge. The next message from Ross was blunt: "You expect me to pay you millions without knowing who the hell you are? Trust is earned, not given."
Quinn leaned back, contemplating his next move. Ara was analyzing every word exchanged between them, running simulations and possible outcomes.
"He doesn't trust you," Ara pointed out. "Predictable."
Quinn smiled. "It doesn't matter. He will."
The negotiations dragged on for what felt like hours. Back and forth, Ross demanded reassurances, trying to push Quinn into sending the weapons first, but Quinn wasn't naive. The man might be desperate for a new supplier, but he wasn't foolish enough to wire over two million dollars without proof of delivery. However, after lengthy exchanges and subtle pressure, Quinn managed to strike a deal. Ross would pay half the amount up front, and the remaining balance upon delivery.
"Half is good enough," Quinn said to Ara. "We can build from here. Is the payment confirmed?"
"Confirmed," Ara responded. "Two hundred thousand in bitcoin has just been transferred into your account. The funds are secure."
Quinn felt a rush of satisfaction. His first major transaction was underway. Now, it was time to deliver.
---
Hours later, Quinn stood on the factory floor, watching as his personal bodyguard prepared the stealth flying car that would deliver the goods. The sleek, futuristic vehicle shimmered under the dim lights, its advanced design far beyond anything this world could comprehend. Ara had already taken care of the production, manufacturing the 100 automatic rifles and ammunition within a matter of hours, thanks to the cutting-edge technology Quinn had access to from the 4th dimension.
"Everything ready?" Quinn asked, walking towards the towering figure of his bodyguard.
"Yes, master. The weapons have been securely loaded, and the car is ready for immediate deployment," the bodyguard responded, his voice a low rumble that betrayed no emotion. He stood by the vehicle, a hulking presence designed to intimidate and protect.
"Good. Get the coordinates from Ara," Quinn instructed.
Ara quickly displayed the coordinates on the factory's control panel. "Ross Garcia is expecting the delivery on the outskirts of Tijuana, at an undisclosed location. A stretch of desert far from prying eyes."
"Perfect," Quinn said, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "Let's not keep him waiting."
The bodyguard boarded the flying car, the engine humming to life as it hovered just above the ground. Within moments, the car shot into the sky, moving at speeds far beyond anything humanity had yet achieved. It would circle the globe in under an hour, delivering the goods discreetly.
---
Meanwhile, in Tijuana, Ross Garcia sat impatiently in the back of his armored Hummer, his mood growing darker by the minute. The coordinates he had provided to Quinn were nothing more than an empty stretch of desert, far removed from civilization, where he could receive the delivery without being noticed by law enforcement or rival cartels. The blazing sun beat down on the arid landscape, casting long shadows across the ground. His men stood nearby, rifles in hand, scanning the horizon.
"Where the hell is this delivery?" Ross muttered, glancing at his watch. The agreed-upon time was nearing, and there was still no sign of the shipment. His trust in Quinn was minimal at best, but desperation had forced him into this deal.
"Boss, maybe he's playing us," one of his lieutenants suggested, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Ross shot him a glare that could cut steel. "He'd better not be. Or we'll be hunting him down."
The men around him shifted uncomfortably, the tension thick in the air. They were all on edge. Their cartel had been under pressure from rivals ever since their previous supplier was taken out, and Ross knew that without these weapons, they wouldn't last long in the coming war.
Just as Ross was about to pick up his phone to contact Quinn, one of his subordinates shouted, "Boss! Look at the sky!"
Ross turned his gaze upward and saw a strange sight—white boxes, massive and pristine, descending from the sky on parachutes. His men scrambled, pointing and murmuring in disbelief as the boxes drifted down toward the desert floor.
"Is that… the delivery?" one of his men asked, bewildered.
Ross stared at the boxes as they landed softly in the sand, his mind racing. The entire transaction had felt surreal from the start, but now, seeing the goods arrive in this almost otherworldly manner, he realized that Quinn Parker was not an ordinary arms dealer.
The boxes were huge, each emblazoned with strange, foreign markings. Ross ordered his men to approach cautiously, rifles raised just in case. As they neared the crates, one of his men pulled out a crowbar and pried one of them open. Inside, packed neatly, were the weapons—sleek, black automatic rifles that gleamed in the sunlight, along with enough ammunition to supply an army.
Ross let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be damned."
He pulled out his phone and sent a message to Quinn: The shipment arrived. Half the remaining sum will be sent immediately.
Back in New York, Quinn received the notification from Ara. He smiled coldly as the bitcoins poured into his account.
"Let this be the first of many," he said, eyes gleaming with ambition