In The USL...
Walter Thompson sat on a plush leather sofa, his fingers rythimically tapping the edge of the table beside him.
Across from him, a man in a tailored suit was engaged in a conversation, the occasional clink of ice against glass punctuating their words as Walter swirled a drink absentmindedly, his gaze drifting to the approachhing figure of his secretary.
The man's face was pale, his steps hesitant as he neared. Walter raised a hand, halting the ongoing discussion. His sharp eyes turned toward the secretary, his expression unreadable.
"Give me a moment," Walter said to his companion, his voice smooth yet commanding. As the man nodded and stepped back, Walter's piercing eyes locked onto the nervous figure now standing before him.
"Well?" Walter prompted, his tone calm yet laced with an unspoken edge.
The secretary swallowed hard and raised his head, his face taut with worry. "Sir, we... we've lost contact with the Rajputs."
For a moment, a charged silence filled the room, broken only by the faint ticking of a clock on the far wall that seemed to grow louder with each passing moment. Walter's gaze narrowed slightly, though his expression betrayed no surprise.
"Go on," Walter said evenly, leaning back into his seat.
The secretary wiped his brow, his voice trembling as he continued. "Our last communication indicated heavy fighting in Indra. There was... chaos. Gunfire, explosions...it seems a large number of troops were involved. We suspect it was a coordinated assault, but since then we've received no confirmation. All of our personnel stationed there have gone silent."
Walter's eyes darkened as he exhaled slowly as if contemplating the weight of the situation. Yet, rather than alarm, there was a faint glimmer of curiosity, perhaps even amusement, in his expression.
"So," Walter murmured, his voice low, "a family that has ruled with such influence for generations... reduced to this."
Walter returned to his seat, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass.
"Let the fools play their games," he murmured to himself. "But they'll learn soon enough who truly holds the strings."
The storm outside had quieted, but within the halls of the Federation's shadowy influence, a tempest had just started breing—one orchestrated by Walter Thompson himself.
Walter took a moment to compose himself after the secretary left, his thoughts still lingering on the Rajput situation. Then, brushing off the lingering tension, he turned and walked back to his guest. His stride was deliberate, his expression calm, yet there was an air of authority around him that filled the room.
"Well, Elyon," Walter said smoothly as he approached, his voice warm yet commanding, "now we have all the time."
Elyon Husk, the world's richest man, looked up from his seat. With a public net worth of $500 billion, he was a figure that few dared to ignore. Renowned as a visionary, Elyon had revolutionized industries ranging from electric vehicles and space exploration to artificial intelligence and sustainable energy. He was credited with building entire ecosystems that had reshaped the global economy.
Elyon's companies dominated markets worldwide. His electric vehicle empire had made gasoline cars nearly obsolete, and his ambitious space projects had led humanity toward interplanetary colonization. His recent innovations in neural tech had created devices that seamlessly integrated human thoughts with machines, further solidifying his reputation as the ultimate innovator.
Despite all this, Elyon Husk wasn't a man who flaunted his power recklessly. He was tall and lean, and carried himself with a confident yet thoughtful demeanor. His sharp eyes hinted at his relentless drive, while his disheveled hair and casual clothing gave him an eccentric edge. Yet, as Walter addressed him, Elyon rose to his feet, offering a small nod of respect.
"Was there any big trouble, Sir Walter?" Elyon asked politely.
The way he addressed Walter spoke volumes. Despite his immense wealth and influence, Elyon understood that Walter was someone who operated on an entirely different plane. Walter wasn't just a man of wealth; he controlled the hidden mechanisms of power. Elyon knew that if Walter ever deemed it necessary, he could dismantle everything he had built with a single command.
Walter chuckled lightly, waving off the concern. "Nothing troublesome. Just a new power rising and making waves."
Elyon raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Hmm. Who is it?"
Walter's smile widened, a knowing glint in his eyes. "It's a young man named Evan. You might not have heard much about him yet, but he's the one behind some of the major political shifts happening recently."