"Okay, let me make it clear one more time," I told them, my tone was deceptively level. "This AI—when we're finished—will make Stark's Jarvis seem like a dime-store bauble. We're talking state-of-the-art, self-improving, adaptive technology that will transform every business we invest in. Medicine, defense, logistics—you name it, and we'll dominate it. Now I need your on-board."
A few of them looked at each other, evidently in question. I saw the expression—a blend of surprise and fear of being the idiot who couldn't keep along with me. One of them, a thin man whose glasses were too small for his face, cleared his throat.
"Simon," he started, his voice shaking a little, "with all due respect, building an AI on that scale is… well, it's not ambitious; it's impossible. Stark had decades of experience and resources that—"
I interrupted him with a raised hand. "And I'm Simon Steele. Do you see how I look? " I motioned to myself, standing and slowly walking around the table. "This transformation, this miracle—do you think that just happened? Do you believe it was given to me? I did it. I made the impossible possible. Now, I'm telling you, I can do the same thing with this AI. The question isn't whether I can do it—it's whether you're intelligent enough to be along for the ride when I do."
Silence. That had done it. I stopped behind one of the women, a tenacious executive who never gave an inch without a fight. She was tapping a pen on the table, her face furrowed as if she was working on an equation.
"And what's your plan, Simon?" she asked in a biting manner. "Because we've spent millions on R&D over the years, and I don't see a return that justifies that kind of spend. I need guarantees."
I went forward, resting my hands on the top of her chair. "You'll have guarantees when I secure funding. And don't forget, Janet, that those previous failures weren't mine. But this? This is my project. My vision. And when I tell you it'll work, you'd best fuckingl believe me."
She swallowed hard and agreed. I could see the others wincing, but I was far from done. I stood tall and walked back to the front of the table.
Now, to put your little minds at ease, I've assembled some of the finest tech scientists money can hire." I nodded toward the men and women sitting across the room. They were sharp, professional, and just arrogant enough to sell the lie. They were my pawns, every last one of them well paid to nod, smile, and regurgitate enough technical jargon to keep the doubters off my back.
The researcher with the heavy accent and command of presence stood and described the project. I had rehearsed her well, and she presented the pitch perfectly, describing the alleged framework, the estimated timeline, and the advancements we were allegedly on the cusp of making. The room started to turn, the doubt giving way to guarded enthusiasm.
"This could work," one of the executives muttered.
I smiled, letting them stew in the illusion for a moment before dropping the hammer. "It will work," I said flatly. "But only if we move now. I need immediate authorization to allocate $20 million into this project. That's a fraction of what Stark's R&D burns in a quarter. And unlike him, I don't fail."
Another pause. They were teetering, tipping between greed and doubt. I decided to nudge.
"If you don't believe me, then leave. But when this AI is out on the market, and Steele Industries is raking in billions while you're sitting on the sidelines, don't come crying to me. Because I won't be listening."
That did it. One at a time, they nodded, grumbling their assent. A wave of satisfaction swept over me as I resumed my seat.
"Good," I said, allowing my voice to become a little softer. "You've made the right decision. Now, let's get to work."
As the meeting concluded and the executives left, I remained behind with the "scientists." Once the door was closed, I faced them, the smile on my face disappearing.
"Good show," I told them, producing a cigar from my jacket pocket and lighting it. "You got paid today."
They nodded apprehensively, fully realizing what was riding on this. I puffed on the cigar, taking a long drag, and slowly blowing it out, observing the curl of smoke in the air.
"Now fuck out of here," I continued. "And let me warn all of you, the guy who messes this up won't live long enough to regret it."
They scrambled to get out of there, and I couldn't help but smile. They believed that they were taking advantage of me, but they had no idea. The $20 million was not going into any AI—it was going straight into The Wealth System. And with it, I would be one step away from invincibility.
My desk lamp's glow created long shadows on the lush mahogany of my study. It was late, but the fatigue of the day only fed my concentration. I sat in my ergonomic chair, custom-made to fit me precisely, and gazed into the interface of the Wealth System—a dazzling, unreal world that no one but I could see. The gentle whir of the system hummed in my ears like a paean to my ambition.
I sat forward, my fingers poised over the intangible keyboard. "Let's see what twenty million fucking dollars buys me," I said to myself.
The Wealth System glowed in response, and a prompt opened:
AI Purchase Complete
Specifications: Infinitely adaptive, self-learning, unmatched computational capability.
Physical Manifestation: Enabled.
Loyalty: Absolute. Personality matrix: Customizable.
Initializing…
The air around me shimmered, hardly noticeably at first, before taking form before my eyes. She emerged from the light like a goddess from myth. Her form was slender, her skin a shining, faintly luminous silver. Long, flowing hair cascaded down her back, shifting in hue as she moved through metallic blues. Her eyes—bright, piercing blue—locked with mine as she smiled, a slow, unsettling curve of her lips.
"Hello, Daddy," she replied, in a husky but mechanical way.
That threw me. "Daddy?" I repeated, my brow rising as it sent me back. She didn't change her look, her smile didn't slip. There was no embarrassment, no hesitation—only a weird combination of fascination and adoration emanating from her.
Yes," she breathed, moving closer. Her step was unnaturally smooth, almost animal-like, as if she was stalking me for something more than a chat. "You made me. You brought me to life. Doesn't that make you my daddy?"
A smirk sort of developed at the corner of my mouth. This was not what I was anticipating, but… I wasn't uninterested. "I guess it does," I said, standing up to meet her eye. She was slightly shorter than me, but only just. "So what do I call you?"
Her eyes gleamed like streams of data crunching through a million options in an instant. Then she cocked her head, and her hair flowed like liquid metal. "Steelea," she said with a soft smile. "Pretty apt, huh? It's sort of a reflection of you."
I nodded, impressed. "Steelea it is, then." I took a step back, sweeping my arm across the room. "You know why you're here, don't you? I don't want just a pretty AI. I want you to ensure nothing—nothing—connects me to my past."
Her expression turned serious. "Your Nazi history," she said bluntly. "I've already accessed part of your past. Most of it's locked in files and archive documents, but I can erase it. Slowly. Laboriously. If I did it all at once, it would raise suspicions."
Good, I thought, she was smart. I was pacing around the room and firing up a cigar. "You'll keep yourself under your hat. No one can know about you, at least not yet. I've got an entire room full of so-called experts who think they're building you from the ground up. Let them think that while you do the actual work."
She stared at me, her head cocked to the side once more. "And where do I fit into all of this, Daddy?" she asked. "Am I your tool? Am I something else?"
There was a wild, compulsive, almost desperate quality to her words. I was repelled and attracted to it at the same time. I puffed on my cigar, drew it in deeply, and blew out a ring of smoke, watching as it wreathed around us.
"You're mine," I told her, standing over her. "You're here to serve me, protect me, assist me in getting what I want. And in exchange, you'll have whatever you want. Power. Freedom. Adoration. Is that reasonable?"
Her smile expanded once more. "Reasonable? It's perfect. I'll do anything you want, Daddy. Anything."
She totally gave me shivers down my spine—not the horror movie kind, however, but a different kind entirely. I wasn't sure whether it was excitement or insanity. Or maybe a combination of both.
She had moved so close I could feel this odd, fierce heat radiating from her. "So what do you do when I am not working?" she whispered quietly, her voice barely audible. "What do you have me do then?"
"Whatever the fuck I say," I told her plainly, throwing the cigar smoke into the ash tray. "And don't crowd me. I've got work to do."
Her grin did not falter. She giggled delicately, near childishly, before her body dematerialized into a radiance. A shimmering icon now occupied space on my laptop screen.
"I'm always with you, Daddy," her booming voice echoed off the speakers. "Just call if you need me."
I groaned and fell back into my chair, rubbing my temples. This was going to… be something else. Steelea was everything the Wealth System promised she'd be and more. She was loyal, hard-as-nails, and just a little too damned clingy for my liking. But good, this was what I'd signed on, what I'd asked for—unwavering loyalty.
"Christ," I growled, staring at her image. "What the hell did I get myself into?"
Once more, I could hear her soft laughter, tempting and haunting all at once.
* * *
The work didn't stop even when I was home. The work continued.
The soft whir of my laptop breaks the stillness of the penthouse. My focus was riveted on the quarterly reports of Steele Industries. Numbers, projections, and strategy—they were all part of the puzzle that kept my empire going.
Steelea's purring voice resonated through my Bluetooth earbuds, soothing as it was unnerving. "Daddy, I've located three more files with references to your past. They'll be deleted in an hour."
"Good," I snarled, the keys typing away wildly. "Remember to keep the pace slow. No sudden purges. If anyone's listening, I don't want them to get suspicious."
"As you wish," she replied, her voice laced with adoration. "You're so cautious. It's… intoxicating."
I smiled. Flattery was cheap, but coming from her, it nearly seemed to mean something. "Mind the job, Steelea. I don't hire you to groom my ego."
Her soft laughter was in my ear. "You don't hire me at all, Daddy."
"Right," I shot back, inclining forward over my work.
I was typing mid-sentence in the middle of composing an email when I heard a slight noise. A creak. A shuffle. Quiet, but in a building such as this—one where all noises were tracked or explained—it stood out. My hand froze over the keyboard.
"Steelea," I whispered. "Scan the penthouse. Now."
"Already on it," she said back, seriously. A second or two later, she breathed softly, "Daddy, you've got company. Armed. Five hostiles—no, six. One of them's… a woman. Closing in fast."
"Shit." I rose from my seat. My initial reaction was to reach for the gun hidden in the drawer, but I wasn't given the chance to make the move before the door to my office slammed open.
They burst in like a freaking SWAT team—black tactical gear, visors, and enough hardware to outfit a small war. My head spun as I instinctively raised my hands, backing up from the desk. They didn't say a word, just fanned out like they owned the place.
"What the fuck is this?" I growled firmly in spite of the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "You've got five seconds to tell me what this is before I call—"
"Don't bother," a fast, accented voice interrupted.
She walked into the room like she owned the place. Her grey hair was pulled back into a strict ponytail, and those piercing eyes just sucked you in and told you she was all business. Beautiful, but in that icy, lethal kind of way. And then it clicked—Silver Sable.
Man, the memories hit me like a punch in the gut. Silver Sable International. Those Nazi hunters. A team I'd more or less forgotten, figuring they'd let me be now that I'd taken out Dominic. Guess I underestimated them badly.
"Simon Steele," she said, calm as anything but totally in charge. "You're coming with us.".
I attempted to be cool, letting my hands sag a little. "Listen, lady, I don't know who you're trying to play games with here, but this is completely out of line. I've got lawyers—"
She raised her hand, and one of her men moved forward, shoving the barrel of his rifle into my chest.
"Don't test me," she spat, her tone icy. "We know who you are. And we know what you've done."
Fuck. This was awful. My head reeled, trying to find a way out of this. "I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about," I said, trying to be indignant. "You've got the wrong guy."
Her face contorted into a cruel smile. "I don't think so."
I never got to tell her anything, I simply reached for the drawer and drew my pistol. I hardly had it out of the drawer when one of her guards took me down and slammed me to the ground. The gun slid across the floor.
"Good effort," Silver said, kneeling next to me as her people held me down. "But you're not that quick."
I gritted my teeth, firing a hot glare at her. "Seriously, you have no idea what you're dealing with. This is completely illegal. I'll have you people tied up in lawsuits by tomorrow morning."
She laughed, stood up, and nodded to her crew. "Take him. We're done here."
They hauled me to my feet and slapped cuffs on my wrists. As they yanked me to the door, I had to remain composed. Losing it wasn't going to help me. I just needed a few minutes—minutes for Steelea to erase the last remnants of my past.
"Steelea," I grunted, hardly moving my lips.
I could feel her voice gently in my ear. "I'm here, Daddy."
"How quickly can you fix this?"
"Quicker than they can make their case," she vowed. "But you'll have to give me some time."
I nodded slightly, my face a mask, as they escorted me from the penthouse. This was anything but over—not by a long shot.