People who offer help in times of need are rare.
That's human nature.
Compared to lending a hand in the snow, people clearly prefer adding flowers to a锦绣 (brocade)—or pushing down a crumbling wall.
In just ten days, Victor Industries' stock value had plummeted from its peak to rock bottom.
Wall Street.
Nate, one of Wall Street's big shots and a shareholder-investor in Victor Industries, looked at Victor—who walked in suited up—and said, "Wow, Victor, you've recovered. I've got good news too. The bank wants to congratulate you—your stock's fallen faster than anything since the Great Depression. We can't even sell it off now."
Victor remained unfazed, "Nate, you know I can turn this around."
He wasn't as brilliant as Reed, but while Reed excelled in IQ, Victor thrived on EQ.
That's how, shortly after graduating, he built Victor Industries—a company that, while not matching Stark Industries' market cap, rivaled its reputation.
Nate sat in the main seat, his investor's ugly side on full display, "You need to turn it around, Victor, or we'll have to ask you to leave."
Victor's expression twitched, "Sorry, Nate, what did you say?"
Nate's face didn't change, "You've got one week, Victor. Either the company recovers, or you're out."
Victor heard it clearly this time, "You're gloating, aren't you, Nate?"
Nate didn't respond.
The three minor shareholders at the table stood up. Nate, adjusting his already-tightened tie, rose and said coolly to Victor and his lone assistant, "One week. Either the company turns around, or you're gone."
It sounded like a choice.
But it was a single-option deal. In a conventional war, a week might flip the victor and the vanquished.
A financial crisis, though?
Unless Victor held a press conference tomorrow announcing a longevity drug, once an avalanche starts, it doesn't stop easily.
Especially with a shadowy hand faintly stirring the pot behind this one.
Nate walked off, already mentally listing candidates to replace Victor as CEO—a Wall Street norm. They'd fund a promising new company, then find ways to oust the founder...
But.
Just as Nate prepared to leave, Michaela—brown-haired, stunningly curvaceous—strode in with a confident smile. Flanked by two Blackwater security guards and leading a man and woman from TNT Law Firm, she approached, "Mr. Dawson, you don't actually need a week."
Nate paused, frowning at the fox-faced woman, "And you are...?"
Michaela chuckled lightly, "You can call me Medusa."
Medusa?
Nate repeated the name silently, then looked at Michaela, "So, you're working for Zeus?"
Medusa, in Greek myth, was a clever, beautiful Titan with prophetic gifts. She helped Zeus seize his throne...
But...
Her ending wasn't exactly rosy. After aiding Zeus, she succumbed to his charms, only to be devoured by him.
Michaela laughed softly, "I hear Mr. Dawson's been looking for someone to take Victor Industries' shares off your hands these past few days."
Nate glanced at Victor, who couldn't get a word in, "Is Ms. Medusa interested?"
Michaela replied, "Victor Industries' shares have tanked to the point where no one wants them. But we're interested. If Mr. Dawson's willing to deal, we'll buy at half the value of Victor Industries' stock from two weeks ago. How's that sound? Are you interested, Mr. Dawson?"
Nate's gaze shifted to Victor, whose face flickered with uncertainty.
This wasn't prearranged.
Nate's brow furrowed. Victor Industries might rival Stark Industries in name, but Stark produced tangible, valuable weapons. Victor Industries? It thrived on concepts.
The space lab was its first—and only—product.
Whatever caused the lab's failure, Wall Street wouldn't care. Neither would the shareholders.
All they knew was Victor's concept had flopped—hence the instant avalanche.
Is there something in Victor Industries I missed?
Nate's mind raced, then he glanced at his proxy representing him in the company.
The proxy shook his head firmly.
Nothing?
Nate was skeptical. After a moment, he turned to Michaela with an apologetic look, "Ms. Medusa, I'll need to think this over."
Michaela shrugged, "I think you've misunderstood something, Mr. Dawson. We're here to be your savior. Either deal now, or—sorry—I've been against this transaction from the start."
That was Michaela's honest opinion.
Ask any finance student if Victor Industries was worth buying now, and they'd look at you like you were an idiot.
But...
No choice. The one who cooked up this plan was a god. Fun, huh? Maybe gods really were saviors in some sense.
With that.
Michaela lifted her wrist, glancing at the pricey watch, and said coolly, "You've got one minute, Mr. Dawson."
Nate's eyes narrowed, "Are you threatening me? Threatening Nate Dawson of Wall Street?"
Michaela didn't flinch, "Thirty, twenty-nine... twenty... fifteen... ten, nine, eight, seven..."
Nate took a deep breath, "Wait!"
Michaela kept counting, unmoved, "Three, two..."
Nate shouted, "I'll sell!"
Ten minutes later.
Michaela, legs crossed in the main seat, nodded as the two TNT lawyers confirmed the deal. She stood, smiling at Nate, "Mr. Dawson, you've made a wise choice."
Nate, on a call with his private banker, confirmed a massive sum had just hit his account—timed perfectly with the final stroke of his signature on the contract.
He set down his pen and looked at Michaela, "Who are you people, really?"
Michaela smiled, "Mr. Dawson, I'd say we're your saviors. After all, who else would throw this much money at you to pull you out of the muck right now?"
Nate shook his head, "Fine, saviors. So, Ms. Medusa, can I meet Zeus?"
Michaela's reply carried a double meaning, paired with a mysterious smile, "Zeus is a god, Mr. Dawson."
Nate: "..."